It Only Stands to Reason
by TuesdayMorning423
Summary: Since her father, Admiral Thomas Bennet's retirement from the the Navy, Elizabeth has learned she cannot trust the men of the Ton. Can she trust Fitzwilliam Darcy to protect her from the wilds of Derbyshire ?
1. Chapter 1

As I ramp up for the release of 'All the Appearance of Goodness', a near total rewrite of Given Good Principles Vol 3, please join me for my latest plot bunny, _**It Only Stands to Reason**_.

**Chapter 1 Into Derbyshire**

"I do not see how you can disagree, Fitzwilliam." Lady Catherine bounced down on the overstuffed chair and folded her hands in her lap. Her features settled into well-worn creases, lips pressed tight, eyes narrowed and staring down her nose. She settled her shoulders into the soft cushion.

Fitzwilliam Darcy sighed. When his mother-in-law wore that expression, only a fool would attempt to argue.

"Why, if my dearest Anne were still with us, she would agree—"

"With what would she agree?" Richard Fitzwilliam poked his head in the doorway.

Darcy jumped and wrenched around in his seat. "I swear you will drive me barking mad if you do not stop doing that!"

"Doing what?" Richard sauntered into the room. His heavy boots barely whispered against the carpet.

"Sneaking up on me! I swear one day I will—." Darcy rose and crossed his arms.

"Balderdash!" Richard smirked. "You would do no such thing, and even if you did, you would stand no chance—."

"Yes, yes, I know, against a retired colonel of His Majesty's army. I know. You have said it only a hundred times." Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose.

Richard chuckled and dropped onto the settee, stretching out his long legs. "You are just unhappy that George and David have learned from their uncle, the hero. What have they done this time?"

"He spilled the inkpot all over his desk and his precious papers when the boys snuck up on him." Lady Catherine leaned forward. "Really, Richard, I do not think you should be teaching my grandsons—"

"They are boys, madam, and if I have anything to say about it, they will be permitted to act like boys." Richard crossed his ankles and his arms, leaning deeply into the corner of the settee.

"Your Lady Mother never—."

"No, she did not, and I vowed never to see the same inflicted upon any boy in my influence. In fact, I think it is high time I taught them to fence." Richard grinned and winked at Darcy.

She groaned and pinched her temples.

"So then, Aunt, what is it you insist Anne would agree with you about?"

Darcy grumbled and sank back into his chair.

"Yes, that is right." She sat up a little straighter. "I am sure you will agree with me as well. After all, it only stands to reason—"

"No, madam, it does not." Darcy leaned toward her and braced his hands on the arms of his chair.

"What stands to reason?" Richard licked his lips.

"A widower in possession of children and an estate—."

"And a good fortune," Darcy muttered under his breath.

"Well, of course, a good fortune, that goes without saying." Lady Catherine's lips wrinkled into a peculiar little frown.

"What about such a gentleman?" Richard stroked his jaw with his knuckles. The corners of his lips twitched.

"Well, he must be in want of a wife, of course." Lady Catherine sprang from her seat and wandered to the large picture window on the far side of the room. "A retired admiral of the White, a Rear Admiral Thomas Bennet, a widower with four children, two daughters and two sons—. . .."

"And five thousand a year," Darcy snorted. He glanced at Richard and rolled his eyes.

Lady Catherine shot him a look certain to sour milk. She turned her shoulder to Darcy and looked at Richard. "He has purchased Alston Hall. I am told he will move in this week."

"Ah, so that was the to-do I saw on the road today," Richard said.

"You saw him?" Lady Catherine rushed to the settee and looked over the back at Richard.

"Indeed, I have. Spoke with him myself. Seems a most amiable gentleman, for a sailor that is." Richard turned to stare at Darcy with a raised eyebrow. "Though I know you do not approve of the navy, something about it bringing people of obscure birth into positions they do not deserve."

Darcy huffed and muttered something untoward under his breath. Richard never was one to forget any comment he could use out of context.

"What a very fine thing for our family." She clapped her hands softly and turned to Darcy. "You must visit him, of course,as soon as can be arranged."

"How is this a fine thing for our family?"

"You must think of the boys and Georgiana. Your sister pines for the company of other young women, and you yourself have complained how there are none in the neighborhood fit for her to keep company with, and here this Bennet fellow has two daughters. Your boys are desperately in need of playmates their age to go do…,well, boy-things with, and now two are come into the neighborhood."

"And how, madam," Darcy pulled himself up from his seat, "precisely do you know that any of this family are fitting company for the Darcys? For all you know, this admiral could be a shopkeeper's son with tawdry morals and a mouth like…like a sailor."

"You are simply impossible, Fitzwilliam. I do not know what has come over you. You will go and visit our new neighbor, or, I swear to you, I will do so myself without you." She harrumphed and stomped out of the room.

Both men stared after her.

"She was right about one thing," Richard said. "What has come over you?"

Darcy blew out a deep breath and dropped back into his seat. "I have already met the man."

"When? How?"

"I believe it was shortly after you encountered him. George and I were riding and encountered their coach stuck in the mud. We helped them loosen it and gave him directions to his estate on roads more passable."

"And?"

"And I found him a very amiable gentlemen. Both his sons were well-mannered youngsters who will make excellent playmates for George and David." Darcy sighed.

"So then why the kerfluffle you just created with…?" Richard glanced toward the doorway.

"He still grieves his esteemed wife. He lost her and a daughter in that flu outbreak last winter. He does not deserve the machinations of my mother-in-law." Darcy raked his hair. He could hardly think of any man who deserved the dedicated attentions that a well-born and once wealthy widow might afford him.

"And his daughters? Are they pretty?" Richard wagged his eyebrows. "What of their dowries?"

"I do not know. I did not meet them," Darcy grumbled under his breath. "Besides, I do not believe, 'Hello, I am pleased to meet you. Are your daughters suitably attractive, or do their dowries make up for their facial deformities?' is considered a polite way to make an introduction, even here in the wilds of Derbyshire."

"How could you fail to assess the—?"

"Enough, Richard, enough. You will be able to see for yourself soon enough."

"So you are going to visit them?" Richard guffawed and slapped the pillow beside him.

"No." Darcy pushed himself up and strode toward the window. "Alston Hall has been closed down for some time. It would take a full staff two weeks at least to make the place livable. Their housekeeper stayed with their former residence. They only brought two man servants, a governess, a maid, a driver and a groom with them."

"So?"

"So, I invited them to stay at Pemberley. Mrs. Reynolds and Mr. Wickham can help them hire a proper staff."

"You did what?" Richard sprang out of his seat and in two strides was at Darcy's side.

"They did not accept the invitation yet. But after they have visited Alston Hall, I am certain they will come on to Pemberley."

"You invited them to stay? Here? A stranger and a sailor no less?" He craned his neck around to try to catch Darcy's eye. "What has come over you? You are not a great lover of company, particularly that of strangers."

Darcy turned his head toward the window. A young shepherd drove a small flock of lambs along a nearby path. "We have both read of his exploits, his pedigree and his reputation. To call him a stranger is hardly fitting." He shrugged and snuck a quick glance at Richard. "Besides, he reminded me of Father."

Richard shook his head. "I'll be damned." He chuckled. "I'll go let Mrs. Reynolds know to expect company. I think Aunt Catherine could use a surprise though."

"Are we almost there?" Francis Bennet clambered over his father's lap and pressed his nose against the side glass. "You said we would be there before supper time. I'm hungry."

Elizabeth stretched across the coach, reaching for his arm, but he squirmed out of her reach. It was high time that Francis learned not to speak every thought that crossed his mind.

"No 'Lisbet! I want to see!" He bounced on his father's knee.

Bennet grimaced and caught him around the ribs, lifting him slightly off his lap.

"Come here." Jane caught his hand and pulled him toward her. "You know Papa's leg pains him."

The little boy looked down at his hands and shuffled his feet. "I am sorry, Papa."

Admiral Thomas Benet nodded and ruffled the boy's hair.

Francis lurched across the coach, stumbled and fell into his identical twin's shoulder. "Oh, oh! I see it, I see it!"

"Look, Papa." Philip tapped the glass. "It must be Alston Hall. It is just as you described. See the gables and look—look there's the turret. Might that room be ours, Papa?"

"We shall see." Bennet kneaded his thigh.

Philip slid away from the window until he was pressed against his father's side. "It is just as grand as Papa said, isn't it Jane?"

"Why not sit beside Jane so you can get a better look." Admiral Bennet gave him a gentle push across the coach.

Jane caught him and settled him into the seat beside her, her arm laid over his shoulder.

"I think it looks horrid." Francis crossed his arms and scowled. "I still do not see why we had to leave Longbourn. I liked it there, and you said we would not have to move again." He stuck out his bottom lip.

"That is enough!" Elizabeth hissed and glanced toward her father.

His brows knotted and ground his teeth. "We left because my nip farthing, ninnyhammer brother, Collins, insisted on installing his worthless son and his French wife in water colours* there."

"He wanted to bring a painting to Longborn?" Phillips asked, huddling close to Jane. "We could have stayed, and let him hang the painting."

Admiral Bennet harrumphed and shook his head.

"It is a little more complicated than that, dear." Jane patted his shoulder.

"Bloody, rank, white livered…"

Elizabeth caught his eye and scowled.

Bennet grumbled again. "Giving us less than a month to leave was not the action of an honorable man."

Elizabeth laid her arm on his hand. "Let it go. You always say a man should be master of his own ship, on land or on sea. Now that Alston Hall is yours, you are once again master. You were never happy at Longbourn with the spectre of Uncle Collins hanging over your head."

His expression softened and melted into a smile. "My voice of reason." He patted her hand. "Using my very own words against me, no less, clever lass."

"I still think—."

"Francis!" Jane and Elizabeth cried in unison.

The coach slowed as it trundled up the gravel lane to the front of the great house. The pale stone elevation with great dark windows glowered down at them, daring them to approach.

"Let us see if she floats." Admiral Bennet pushed the door open before the coach came to a complete stop. He jumped down, grimaced and clutched his knee. The boys bounded out after him. The girls waited for the coach to come to a proper halt. By that time, though, their father was long gone.

Mr. Piper handed them out and offered them his arms on the way up the steps. Frightening scars puckered the old sailor-turned-valet's face and his eyepatch lent him a menacing air that he cultivated at every turn. All the Bennets knew better. He had been with Admiral Bennet for as long as the girls could remember. The two men had saved each other's lives so many times, neither of them kept count any longer.

Mrs. Hill, their longtime housekeeper, and Miss Iola Wexley, the boys' long-suffering governess, met them at the front door.

"Permission to come aboard, Cap'n?" Mr. Piper saluted and winked. Squeezing his good eye shut drew his cheek and lip in something that looked like a snarl.

The boys saluted and laughed.

"Permission granted." Admiral Bennet turned the doorknob hard. It creaked as the door inched open. The hinges groaned and squealed in protest. He took his sons' hands and stepped over the threshold. The rest followed.

Elizabeth sniffed the stale air, musty and dusty in her nostrils. Jane sneezed twice.

"At least they kept the furniture properly covered," Mrs. Hill muttered. "I best go find the kitchen." She trundled off.

Elizabeth bit back her giggle. Mrs. Hill was the only one who dared wander off without awaiting the Admiral's orders. He gave her a wider berth than anyone else on his staff, even Piper. No one wanted to raise the sturdy woman's ire.

"Miss Wexley, take a turn about the servants' rooms. No use bringing in a staff if the place isn't fit to house them." Bennet turned to Piper. "Take the boys and reconnoiter the west wing. Perhaps you can find a school room and nursery there."

The boys groaned.

"Yes, sir." Piper saluted. Francis and Philip mimicked him and followed him upstairs.

Elizabeth cleared her throat.

"Ah, Lizzy, do not say it, not yet. Go look through the house first. You and Jane take the west wing. I will survey downstairs and send the grooms to the barns. I trust you will find the house meets your standards yet."

She sighed and nodded. Jane at her side, she trudged toward the stairs.

"It is a lovely house, is it not?" Jane whispered with a backward glance at their father.

"The architecture is beautiful, I fully grant you that." Elizabeth clutched the stair rail in one hand and her skirts in the other. "But that truly has little to do with whether it is currently livable."

"The roof and the windows appear sound." Jane offered a pressed-lip smile and a lift of her brows.

"A fine beginning, indeed." Elizabeth landed her foot on the final step a little more loudly than strictly necessary. "If you are correct, I am grateful. But it is not enough." She led Jane into the east wing.

The hall stretched on and on, nearly disappearing into the horizon. A chill wind whistled and moaned past them.

"My goodness." Jane rubbed her arms briskly. "This is a very grand place, indeed."

Elizabeth shrugged and wrenched open the first door they came to. "These look like family quarters."

They stepped inside. Elizabeth pulled the dusty sheets off the press in the corner. When she yanked open a drawer, a moth flew out. She frowned, pulled out a pile of unevenly folded linen, and pressed it to her face. "Musty," she grumbled under her breath. "Everything will have to be washed before it can be used. And much of it will probably need mending too." She wrinkled her nose.

Jane wandered to the bed and pulled back the dust covers to reveal an elegantly carved frame. When she sat down, the mattress caved in and swallowed her. Jane yelped.

Elizabeth ran and pulled her out of the sagging bed. "That will need some work too."

"Perhaps we should rig some hammocks between the bed posts." Jane giggled.

"I have no doubt Piper still sleeps in one. He probably has several." Elizabeth winked and beckoned Jane to the next room.

Half an hour later they met back in the foyer.

"There is neither coal nor firewood to be found in storage." Mrs. Hill shook her head, "and if you be askin' me, it be far too early in the spring to be without the option of a good fire, not to mention the cooking fires." She harrumphed.

"There is no bedroom fit to occupy right now." Elizabeth crossed her arms firmly and leveled a stern gaze at her father. "We have no choice. We must take Mr. Darcy up on his offer of hospitality—"

"No. I will arrange rooms at the Bull in Lambton. I stayed there when I came to see the place in—."

"Mr. Darcy said there had been a fire at the inn and repairs were not complete. They only have three rooms to let and have no vacancies currently." Elizabeth tapped her foot softly on the dusty marble floor.

"We can—."

Elizabeth grabbed his hand and pulled him aside. "Jane and Philip are still weak. Remember what the doctor said. They have not fully recovered from the influenza last fall. It is not safe for them to stay in all this cold and draft without even a proper bed. We cannot risk their health."

He grimaced. "You are right. I do not like it; however, we have little choice but to impose on our neighbor's hospitality. I will send the groom on ahead."

A quarter of an hour later, two carriages, laden with trunks, headed for their nearest neighbors on Pemberley estate.

*A mistress, or concubine; water colours being, like their engagements, easily effaced, or dissolved.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Darcy and Richard stood at the top of the steps and waited for the first of the carriages to arrive. Lady Catherine refused to join them. After all, a Lady has her guests brought into the parlor to be greeted. Darcy snorted. It was just as well. If Bennet's boys were anything like his own after a long carriage ride, it was best Lady Catherine not witness their exit from their coach. It would not do for her to be so critical of their new neighbors so early in their acquaintance.

"I see he left the caravan of wagons back at Alston Hall." Richard squinted and shaded his eyes with his hand. The later afternoon sun defeated his efforts and left him blinking uncomfortably. "What would possess a man to carry so much furniture along? From the look of it, none seemed equal to the appointments of Alstons."

"I daresay you shall not rest until you have pried the information out of some member of their party." Darcy tugged his coat sleeves and straightened his cravat. "Do wait until at least morning before you begin your interrogations, though. I would like them to believe us civilized for at least one evening."

"You have my word I shall not begin torturing their servants until morning." Richard pressed his lips tightly and cast a sidelong look toward Darcy.

Darcy rolled his eyes.

The first carriage neared the house. Darcy descended the stairs two at a time to arrive at the bottom just as the carriage rolled to a stop. Richard followed on his heels.

The door opened before the driver could dismount. Admiral Bennet emerged, two young boys in his wake.

Darcy bowed. "Welcome to Pemberley."

Bennet brushed his hands down his coat and extended his hand. "Thank you for your invitation, sir. I am sorry to impose upon you so early in our acquaintance."

"Nonsense." Darcy pumped his hand firmly. "With the inn still under repairs and you with ladies and children to shelter, I could hardly do otherwise."

"And with the house otherwise empty," Richard offered his hand. "Pemberley is frightfully quiet."

Bennet shook his hand and glanced at his boys. "I fear these scamps will remedy that problem in short order. May I present my sons, Francis and Philip."

The boys bowed a little awkwardly but in tandem. Darcy could not suppress a smile. The two lads were mirror images of each other. Oh the trouble that could lead to! It was a good thing his own boys were not indistinguishable from each other or Mrs. Reynolds would have surely retired by now.

Richard hunkered down on one knee to look the boys in the eyes. "You look like fine young men, both of you, but do tell, how does one tell you apart?"

Francis laughed. "It took our governess ever so long to sort it out." He clapped his hands over his mouth. "She still calls me Philip often enough."

Philip made a small bow. "If you please, sir. I am right handed. Francis uses his left."

"But Papa won't make me switch owing to that it will make me a more formidabab…formida…a more better swordsman." Francis grinned.

"So he is teaching you the sword already?" Richard raised his eyebrows.

"Indeed, sir. We have wooden ones for practice now—."

"We brought them in our trunk…do you want to see?"

"Papa says, when I am eleven, he shall—."

The front door swung open. George and David Darcy rushed out.

"See, there! The two identical boys I told you about!" George shouted and pulled his younger brother down the stairs. "David would not believe me that you were just alike. But now, you see!"

Darcy caught George's shoulder and gave him a severe look. "May I present my sons, George and David."

The boys bowed to one another, nearly knocking their heads together. Laughing, they attempted to shake hands only to have the greeting end in a tangle of arms.

Both fathers reached in to sort out the jumble of limbs.

"Papa," George looked up, "May we show them colts in the barn?"

Darcy glanced at Bennet, eyebrow raised. "My grooms are in the barns and will supervise them closely."

Francis and Philip stood stone still, their hands tightly clasped before them, but not breathing a single word. They all but quivered with the effort to maintain a posture of silent attention, or at least a boyish semblance of it.

Bennet nodded slowly. "They have been confined to the carriage for the last several days, and a good run is just the thing they need. Now mind yourselves, gentlemen. You know how to conduct yourselves in company and around horses. Do not allow me to hear that you have done otherwise."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," they said breathlessly, saluted their father, and ran off behind their new playmates.

Richard rose and cocked his head at Bennet.

"No, I do not make them salute." Bennet chuckled. "It is a habit they picked up from my man, Piper. He did that for so many years at sea, he cannot seem to shake the practice."

A young woman cleared her throat behind Bennet.

"Ah, yes, forgive me, girls. Gentlemen, may I present my daughters, Jane and Elizabeth. Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam."

The girls curtsied and the gentlemen bowed.

"Thank you for your hospitality., Elizabeth said.

Darcy paused. What an arresting creature she was. Not beautiful in the most conventional sense, she was stunning, nonetheless, with eyes full of intelligence and curiosity, a musical voice, and a smile that he could not tear his eyes from. Wrapped around her shoulders she wore an unmistakable air of confidence and strength he had never encountered in any other woman. Their eyes met. He was staring. Where had his manners gone? He blinked and shook his head. "You are most welcome. . ..Please come inside. I am sure you would like to refresh yourselves after your travels." He ushered them inside. "I will have—."

A flurry of feathers and taffeta breezed in. "Welcome to Pemberley." Lady Catherine smiled her broadest good-hostess smile.

Darcy fought to keep his expression mild. She meant well and her manners were always impeccable. If only her timing would be better. He pressed his lips tightly and nodded. "May I present my aunt, Lady Catherine DeBourgh. Aunt, these are our guests and newest neighbors, Admiral Bennet and his daughters, Miss Jane Bennet and Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

Admiral Bennet bowed over Lady Catherine's proffered hand. "Thank you for your gracious invitation to my family."

"You are most welcome." Lady Catherine smiled. "I have a light luncheon served in the parlor. Please—"

"I am sure they would prefer to refresh themselves after their travels, Aunt." Darcy glanced back at Richard.

"Nonsense," Bennet waved him down. "The good lady has gone to so much trouble; we would be most pleased to join her for refreshments." He turned to his daughters, who nodded.

Darcy swallowed back a sigh. The weary creases beside Bennet's eyes belied his cheerfulness, as did the dust smudges on his otherwise stunning daughters' cheeks. Such thoughtfulness in so new an acquaintance! This was definitely a man he would like to know better.

Lady Catherine batted her eyes at Darcy. She would be insufferable now, believing that she had won her point. "Come then, the parlor is this way."

They fell into step behind Lady Catherine and soon arrived at the parlor. Georgiana waited within, hovering over the sideboard where neatly laden trays were set out.

"May I introduce my sister, Georgiana." Darcy gestured toward his sister.

The ladies curtsied, the men bowed and introductions were made all around.

"A lovely spread you have here, on such short notice." Admiral Bennet nodded at Lady Catherine.

She encouraged them all to serve themselves and sit down whilst she made tea. Lady Catherine finished serving the tea and took a seat beside Bennet. She drew a breath to speak.

"Ha! I told you I was fastest!" George Darcy burst into the room, the three younger boys hard on his heels.

"That was not fair!" Francis grabbed at George's coattail.

Darcy and Bennet sprang to their feet. "Boys!"

The youngsters skidded to a stop in front of their fathers. Their expressions lost all their prior levity. They clasped their hands behind their backs, still panting, trickles of sweat trailing down their faces.

Two young women appeared at the doorway. They both panted hard, strands of hair plastered to their cheeks, bonnets askance.

Darcy looked from them to Bennet. "Your governess, sir?"

Bennet nodded.

Darcy turned back to the young women still hovering in the doorway. "Miss Mallory, take all the boys and…"

"Miss Wexely," Bennet replied and glared at his sons.

"Miss Wexely to the kitchen. I am sure Mrs. Reynolds can arrange some refreshment for them. Then you may show them upstairs…."

"Papa, please, can they stay in the nursery with us? There is plenty of room there…." George clapped softly.

"Please?" David added, edging closer to his new friends.

"May we, Papa?" Philip asked, wide-eyed.

Admiral Bennet harrumphed.

Richard laughed heartily. "You'll not keep them apart, I fear. Best make it official lest you have them creeping about the house in the middle of the night."

Darcy grumbled. "They do not need you giving them new ideas."

"That idea is hardly new. I seem to remember—. "

"Enough." Darcy held up an open palm.

"If Mr. Darcy approves, then you may." Bennet rolled his eyes. "You may want to consider their request carefully. I daresay the amount of mischief…"

"We will be good, Papa. We promise, sir." Francis stepped a little closer to his father. His expression shifted subtly, and he straightened his shoulders. "You have my word."

Bennet's severe expression broke into a smile, and he ruffled his son's unruly curls.

Darcy chuckled. "Can their request be accommodated, Miss Mallory?"

She exchanged weary glances with Miss Wexley, who shrugged. "Yes, sir, I believe it can."

"With any luck, they will tire each other out, sir." Miss Wexley grinned and winked.

"Then I suppose it is decided. Now, out with you. The next time I see you, I expect you to be cleaned up and behaving as proper young gentlemen." Darcy scowled.

"Yes, sir." George and David said, suppressing their grins.

"Yes, sir!" Francis and Philip saluted smartly and followed the governesses out.

"I believe I shall have to add something to her pay this quarter." Bennet pinched his temples.

"You say that every quarter." Elizabeth said, the corners of her lips twitched.

"You often say the same, yourself, Brother." Georgiana added very softly.

Darcy turned sharply and stared at her. She spoke unbidden? What a remarkable afternoon this was turning out to be. A smile slowly lifted his lips. "I suppose you are correct." He glanced briefly at Lady Catherine.

Her jaw hung slightly agape, and she stared at Georgiana. She blinked several times and twitched her head. Turning to Jane, she asked, "So how did you find Alston Hall?"

"Dusty." Jane sniffled.

Georgiana and Elizabeth looked at one another and giggled softly.

"I fear the rooms have not been aired in some time." Elizabeth folded her hands in her lap. "But the furnishings appear quite lovely."

"They are in quite an old style, I fear." Lady Catherine smoothed her skirts. "Mrs. Hamilton, the previous mistress, talked of redecorating for years, but she never did so. I hope you do not find the tired styling too distressing."

"I am certain we shall hardly notice." Jane smiled. "It is appointed far more comfortably than a number of the houses we have lived in."

"Have you lived many places?" Georgiana asked.

Richard leaned in, eyes wide at his cousin.

Darcy forced his eyes away from his sister. Surely this was the most she had spoken to guests…ever. Now Richard was gaping at the other Miss Bennet. The serene girl wore the same mantle as her younger sister, though her beauty was of a more conventional form. One could easily argue she would be considered the loveliest inhabitant of their neighborhood. Still , though, Darcy's gaze kept wandering toward the younger Miss Bennet.

"I have always been a bit unconventional." Admiral Bennet looked directly at Richard, then at Darcy. "I have always kept my family as close to me as possible. Both my wives set up housekeeping in whatever port was nearest."

"With your children?" Georgiana gasped.

"Indeed. We could hardly have left them behind."

"They must have been extraordinary women." Richard stroked his chin, nodding slowly.

"Indeed, they were." Bennet touched the black ribbon that circled his sleeve.

Awkward silence filtered into the room. Darcy squirmed. Lady Catherine cleared her throat daintily.

"Where have you lived?" Georgiana asked.

"Naples, Gibraltar, Bombay and Jamaica. We have visited several other places as well." Jane's voice trailed off.

"That is an astonishing list for young women like yourselves." Richard's eyes fixed on Jane. "What was your opinion of your adventures?"

Darcy ran a finger around the inside of his collar. He felt the heat of Richard's gaze even across the room.

Jane looked at her father with eyes so full of warmth, the heat in Darcy's cheeks rose. "I liked them very much. Sometimes I find that I do not understand the Ton very well, having spent so much time abroad."

Lady Catherine snapped her fan open and fluttered it. "I will be most happy to make introductions for you in town during the Season. I assume you will be going to London then?"

"Thank you very much." Elizabeth looked at her father, her lower lip caught in her teeth.

He coughed. "That is a very kind offer, Lady Catherine." Bennet pulled himself up a little straighter, and the corners of his mouth tugged down. "You will, of course, understand when I assure you, my daughters are in no need of introductions."

Lady Catherine shrank back slightly as Bennet leveled a stern look at her.

Darcy struggled to restrain a snicker.

"I served under Prince William for a good number of years and count him among my friends. He saw to their sponsorship himself when they were presented at court. We moved to Hertfordshire and now here to get away from all the crush."

Lady Catherine gasped, and Richard's eyes widened.

Bennet laid his plate and cup on the table with a small clink. "If you do not mind—."

Darcy rose. His chest ached from the room's sudden tension pressing in on it. "Of course, I am sure you all need to rest and refresh yourselves before dinner. I will have my housekeeper show you to your rooms." He rang for Mrs. Reynolds, who appeared in short order. The Bennets followed her out.

"Prince William?" Richard whistled through his teeth. "Our neighbors keep illustrious company, for sure."

"Well, I think it an excellent thing, indeed. There is surely no better company for our dear Georgiana." Lady Catherine snapped her fan closed.

Georgiana blushed. Her head drooped, and she stared at her tightly folded hands.

"In fact, when we next go to town, they might be in a way to put her in the way of some very worthy gentlemen."

Darcy rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.


	3. Chapter 3

**Several of you have asked about character ages in this re-imagining. Darcy is in his early 30's, having married Anne around 20 and his eldest son is 10. Elizabeth is in her mid twenties, thus both are slightly older than in canon.  
**

**Chapter 3  
**

The barely post-dawn sun warmed the morning room with a cheery golden glow. Fragrant coffee and scones teased weary appetites with a promise of breaking fast.

The reminders of home rang bittersweet for Elizabeth. Weeks on the road with slow wagons laden with furniture left her longing for a place to settle down. But after the promise of a permanent home at Longbourn was so brutally stolen, it was hard to dare hope Alston Hall would provide that sense of stability for which she longed. Maybe…she would have to wait and see. In the meantime, wisdom demanded she guard her heart.

"Father, you cannot be serious." Elizabeth set her teacup on the table. It rattled against the saucer with the distinct clink of fine china. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Of course, I am. When have you ever known me to joke about such a thing?" He crossed his arms, brows knitting tightly. "I do not see why it you should be making this out to be so very difficult. It is not as if we were talking about coordinating an armada."

She grumbled under her breath and shook her head. "Why do you still insist running a household is no different from running a ship or the entire Navy as you would call it?"

He lifted his hands with a flourish. "Your stepmother—."

"Papa, I miss her as much as you do and possibly even more." A lump ached in her throat. She gulped it back.

A quick glance at Papa revealed a suspicious glimmer in his eye, quickly blinked away.

She touched his hand. "You have no idea what she did to keep your household running according to your military standards."

He snorted. "How else would one run an admiral's household?"

She clenched her teeth to avoid rolling her eyes. "Her staff was impeccably trained. You have no idea what it took to get them that way. Servants cannot be drilled like seamen."

"I do not see why not."

The muscles along her shoulders twitched and knotted. "We most certainly cannot hire them already trained to your satisfaction. It will take months to train them once they are hired, and it will take weeks to hire them."

"That cannot be true. " He slapped the table. "I will simply—."

Boyish laughter and pounding footsteps filled the air. Bennet harrumphed and pushed himself from his seat. He stalked to the doorway.

Elizabeth followed close behind.

"Gentlemen!" he barked.

Francis and Philip skidded to a stop along the slick tile. They came to a halt in front of him. George and David stumbled as they tried not to run into the twins.

Bennet glared at them. "You will have respect for our host's home." He paced before the boys, hands clasped behind his back. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," all four boys intoned in unison, voices trembling slightly.

"Are you permitted to race through the halls of my house?"

"No, sir."

Again, Gregory and David answered along with the twins. Elizabeth pressed her lips together tightly. Now was certainly not the time to laugh.

"Then what made you believe you would be permitted to here?"

The boys shuffled their feet and mumbled something that sounded like "I don't know."

"I will accept no more of this from the two of you .You know better." He leaned forward just enough to tower over his sons.

He did not look at the Darcy boys, though they squirmed in his shadow.

"If you must run, take it outside," he pointed toward the door, "where there is an entire estate fit for the activity."

"Yes,sir."

"If this happens again, you will be confined to the nursery, under the constant supervision of your governess, for a week complete." He glanced up.

Miss Wexley and Miss Mallory pelted down the stairs. Miss Wexley's hair escaped its pins and snaked out from under her mobcap. Miss Mallory reached behind her back, struggling to tie her apron.

"Sir!" Miss Wexley came to an abrupt stop behind her charges. She shoved loose strands of hair behind her ears and tucked in loose hair pins. "I am sorry sir, they—."

He waved her down. "No need to explain." His eyes narrowed as he focused on the boys. "There will not be a repetition of this episode, will there gentlemen?"

"No, sir!" Francis and Philip saluted smartly.

George, then David, attempted to mimic the gesture. George nearly poked himself in the eye.

Elizabeth caught her giggle just before it escaped but at the cost of a well-bitten cheek.

"Return to the nursery and wait there until your governesses are ready to escort you downstairs."

"But, Papa! The scones smell so good." Francis looked toward the morning room door, licking his lips.

Bennet harrumphed. "Do you think your behavior should be rewarded with scones?"

Francis looked down and scuffed his toes against the marble floor. "No, sir."

"Nor do I. You will not starve to death in a few hours. Perhaps a few hunger pangs will give you pause the next time you are tempted to escape Miss Wexley." He nodded at the governess. "Or Miss Mallory."

Miss Welxey placed a hand on each of the boys' shoulders and urged them toward the stairs. "Thank you, sir." She curtsied.

Miss Mallory took her charges by the hand and led them upstairs.

Slow applause filled the hall. Bennet turned.

Mr. Darcy smiled broadly, nodding. "I may have to begin taking notes around you. I believe my scamps saluted you as well." He chuckled.

Bennet's eyebrows rose. "I do not mean to usurp your authority with your sons, sir." He dipped his head slightly.

"No, not at all. I would have said the same thing had I encountered them first." Mr. Darcy gestured toward the morning room. "You were a step ahead of me, this morning."

Bennet returned to the table. "I was often told that in the navy. Found it was rather useful for keeping alive those days."

"I can well imagine." Darcy nodded at Elizabeth. "Good morning, Miss Bennet."

"Good morning, Mr. Darcy." She sat down.

"Mr. Darcy," Bennet leaned back and crossed his ankles. "Perhaps you can settle a small dispute my daughter and I were having."

Elizabeth huffed a deep breath. She rolled her eyes and picked up her teacup, staring into it. How could bringing a stranger into their discussion be useful? What could Mr. Darcy know about Papa's exacting standards and what he expected from his household?

"I am pleased to offer what assistance I may, but I do not know if I am qualified—."

Elizabeth drew a deep breath.

"You are most qualified." Bennet smiled.

Elizabeth fought to swallow back her words.

"You see, not to be ungrateful, but I do not wish to impose upon your generous hospitality any longer than absolutely necessary. My daughter," he glanced at her, "believes it will take weeks to hire a staff, and even longer to train them. She estimates six weeks to two months to have the house prepared to even a minimal level of livability. I cannot see it taking over a week to hire and just a few days beyond that to ready the house. But I shall agree to abide by your insight. What say you?"

Elizabeth sipped her tea, then returned the cup to the table. "If you are prepared to string hammocks from the rafters in the attic, I suppose we could forego this discussion and move in immediately. Perhaps Mr. Piper has spares among his kit." She smiled a fleeting, tight smile. "However, short of that, I maintain my original estimate."

Darcy looked from father to daughter. "You will forgive me, Miss Bennet. I do not wish to contradict you in any way." He dipped his head toward her.

She held her breath. He was about to say something astoundingly stupid, that much was obvious. A gracious guest must not react to even the most outlandish of statements, or so her stepmother had schooled her. Though it might kill her, she would honor the beloved woman's memory.

"I must agree with your father. Hiring a staff is not so complicated a task as you make it out to be."

There. He had done it. At least he did not attempt to be condescending as well. For that she could be grateful. "I see, then, you gentlemen surely know what you are about. I will be happy to stay out of your way and submit to your greater expertise in this matter. Pray excuse me." She rose, curtsied and strode briskly from the room.

The warmth in the room disappeared, replaced by a sharp chill. Darcy glanced at the tightly closed window. "Forgive me, sir; I fear I have upset her." Darcy followed her with his gaze.

"Do not put too much stock in her outburst, sir." Bennet brushed the thought aside and clucked his tongue. "Lizzy is my daughter through and through. Since my wife's death, she has been captain of my household. Like any good captain, she does not take well to anyone coming in and suggesting he may know something she does not about the ship. She is a good girl and will get over it soon enough."

Darcy's eyes lingered on the doorway. "Still, it seems ungentlemanly to upset a lady, especially one who is a guest in my home." Especially one so intriguing whom he would like to know better.

"There is nothing ungentlemanly about telling the poor girl the truth. The sooner she learns we are right, the quicker she can regain her equanimity and be about the business of getting the household up and running." Bennet stroked his chin. "She will rally; do not fear."

"Forgive me for asking, but is it not unusual that your elder daughter is not taking on the role of mistress of your estate?"

Bennet frowned and crossed his arms over his waist. He leaned his chair back and rocked on its back legs.

Darcy lifted a brow. Surely the Admiral's sons would not be permitted such liberties with the furniture.

"Jane and Philip were very ill with the same scourge that took my wife and youngest daughter, Mary. The doctors held little hope for their recovery." Bennet swallowed hard. "I am blessed to still have them with me. But they have not yet recovered their strength. Lizzy asserts herself, perhaps a little more strongly than she should, to insure that her sister feels no need to take on those tasks that might tax her too much." He stared at the worn toes of his boots. "They are both good girls. Jane is all serenity, a glass sea and a balmy breeze. But Lizzy is the one you want at the helm in a storm, even if she brings a few her way with her." He laughed softly.

Darcy took a scone from the platter. He bit into it, crumbs falling neatly onto his plate. "You brought your housekeeper with you?"

"Her, Piper, the governess and two grooms."

"If it is all right with you, I shall have a chat with Mrs. Reynolds, my housekeeper. I am certain she will be happy to work with your housekeeper. Between them and your most capable daughter, your house may be staffed even more quickly than you or I expect."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4  
**

Elizabeth forced herself to walk slowly, shoulders back, back straight. It would only aggravate Papa if she stomped off in a huff. She counted her steps down the hall, footfalls echoing on the tile. One, two, three, four. . .

_Walk like a lady, not a sailor._ Her stepmother's voice echoed in her ears. Oh, how Elizabeth missed her! Lady Ellen always knew how to manage Papa. And Elizabeth. The corners of Elizabeth's lips lifted slightly.

But how utterly maddening Papa could be! Why would he choose to be so now? What would Lady Ellen do in her place?

She slipped out the door and shut it softly behind her. Once outside, her pace increased to a distinctly unladylike stalk down a garden path. The morning cool tickled her nostrils, but the day's heat asserted itself in a cloying note behind the cool. Soon spring would give way to full summer and its oppressive heat, one more irritation the Bennet family did not need.

She walked still faster, into the deep shade of a stand of trees. The fragrance of loam hung in the cooler air. She paused for a moment as her eyes adjusted to the shadows.

The solicitor had assured Papa that Alston's home farmer still managed the home farm and that the tenant farms were well tended. Even if Alston's owner did not care about the harvest, the farmers needed them to be successful. Fall, Mr. Stewart assured them, would be prosperous. She prayed he was right. A failed harvest could be disastrous. At the very least it would ensure a very lean winter.

Surely that explained Papa's drive to take possession of the estate so quickly. It was not like him to be so difficult without a very good reason. She stopped, turned her face up into an isolated sunbeam and pinched the bridge of her nose. Papa's having a good reason only made it more difficult to hold her ground against his unreasonable expectations. She ground her teeth.

Jane was the patient one. Wishing for her sister's mild temperament had become an ever increasing temptation these days. Thou shalt not covet they neighbor's property, but what about his temperament. Was that a sin as well?

She sighed, shoulders sagging. A stone bench near a tree caught her eye. She dropped down onto it, ignoring the cold bite of the stone through her thin day dress. The cold emptiness aching in her chest trumped anything the stone could offer. Just a little longer. She must hold on just a little longer. Weary, she leaned back against the sturdy tree trunk and closed her eyes.

They all felt the loss of Longbourn. No doubt Papa felt it most keenly of all. How could a man of his standing not? But he would not talk of it, even with her. Only rare outbursts like the one in the carriage gave her any insight into his true feelings. She admired his strength, but at the same time, it prevented any of them from expressing their weariness, and today she was at the end of her strength.

Lady Ellen had been their rock, holding them together through each move and making each change an exciting adventure. Now without her, with their foundation gone, they longed for a respite from their constant travels, the respite that Longbourn was to have been.

Eventually Alston Hall would be that refuge, but that was months way yet. It needed so much work.

She opened her eyes and braced her hands on the bench. It would not be a pleasant day when Papa began interviewing staff. Poor Mrs. Hill! She screwed her eyes shut. That woman had the patience of a saint, but this might push even her too far.

"Miss Bennet?"

Her eyes flew open. Colonel Fitzwilliam stood several feet away, staring at her with a most peculiar expression. "Are you well? Is there something I might do for you?"

"No, sir. I thank you very much. I am well." She pushed up off the bench and brushed the dust from her hands.

"Forgive my forwardness, madam, but you do not look well at all." He peered at her with narrowed eyes.

"That is very forward indeed, sir." She pulled back slightly and glowered.

"I am sorry to offend. I am only concerned. Is there something at Pemberley not to your liking? Has any of our staff distressed you in any way? Is there some comfort we can offer to your sister or brothers?" His expression shifted, his brow knotted tightly. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut. "The boys have gotten into more mischief, have they not?"

Elizabeth laughed. A smile crept across her lips.

"I am forgiven?" He cocked his head.

She nodded.

"Do you care to walk?" He offered her his arm, with a raised eyebrow.

She took it, and they strolled further into the garden. "Why would you think the boys have—"

He guffawed. "You jest. Your brothers do not seem very different from my own nephews. They are good boys to be sure; do not think I suggest otherwise. But they have more energy than most regiments I have commanded. . .and no end of creative ways to apply it."

"That describes my brothers quite well, and, I imagine, you at that age also." She laughed softly.

"Guilty as charged, madam." He smiled wryly, his blue eyes twinkling.

"I believe my father has persuaded them to direct their efforts outside for the time being. Although he is retired, his command voice is still on active duty. Even your nephews saluted him this morning."

Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed so hard began to cough. He leaned forward, hands on thighs.

Elizabeth slapped his back hard until he began to breathe regularly again.

"Oh-ho! You all must stay with us for some months. Perhaps that will train those young scamps to be a bit more mindful. My cousin is a doting father, but he has not quite managed the knack of reining in his young scamps."

"I am grateful that the boys have become such quick friends." She took his arm, and they walked again. "I fear my brothers may be starved for the company of youngsters their own age."

"My nephews are as well. They used to play with several youngsters a bit older than themselves. Those boys went off to school this year. George and David have been rather lonely, I think. I have tried to amuse them but it is not the same."

"Not, I imagine it is not. But undoubtedly a real army colonel must be a most desirable playmate. Much as a real admiral is."

"Sometimes too desirable, I think." He clucked his tongue. "I confess to being glad you brought your own governess. Miss Mallory would be in dire straits trying to handle all four of them herself." He chuckled again. "I fear George and David will be crestfallen when you finally repair to Alston Hall."

"They will be most welcome to visit when we do." She shook her head slightly. "If my father has his way, we will be doing so by the end of the week."

He stopped short. "The end of the week? You are not serious. You must have staff and train them. Then there is all the work that must be done."

She slipped her hand from his arm and lifted them both, palms out. "I am not the one you need to be explaining that to. I tried to convince Papa and your cousin that—"

"No! Tell me he did not interfere!" He clapped his hand over his mouth and grumbled under his breath.

She flashed a quick smile that quickly turned into a deep frown.

Colonel Fitzwilliam grimaced and shook his head. "I dread to ask what he said, but I must. Tell me, was it colossally stupid?"

"Yes." She blinked.

"You do not mince words, do you?" He grinned a cockeyed little grin that scarcely belonged on a soldier's face.

"That is not a skill learned in an admiral's household, sir. Perhaps you soldiers are better at prevaricating."

"Not this soldier." He crossed his arms and stared at her. "So tell me, what did they say?"

She squeezed the bridge of her nose, face turned down. "Papa believes the entire staff might be hired and trained in a matter of a se'nnight and the house might be readied just a few days thereafter."

"And Darcy agreed?"

"Most assuredly. They both pronounced my rather more conservative estimate as utterly uninformed." She huffed out a deep breath.

Colonel Fitzwilliam kicked a rock in the path. "Let me offer my apologies for him, please. Lady Catherine runs the household in her daughter's stead. She and Mrs. Reynolds make a formidable team. He truly knows little of household matters, beyond the appearance of ease with which they are accomplished. He has no idea."

She dipped her head slightly. "Thank you. I appreciate your sentiment."

"But you wonder how I might know otherwise?"

She peeked up at him.

He winked. "Managing to keep men fed and clothed on maneuvers gives one a rather unique insight into what managing a household entails."

"I honestly thought Papa would see it differently for that reason, but it seems his own officers were as efficient as my stepmother and he never saw the trials of management for himself. I will give him credit for his ability to find accomplished captains to manage underneath him. But I fear even Mrs. Hill will meet her match in trying to achieve his current expectations."

"Never fear, madam. I have a plan."

"You do now? I am all agog." She perched her hands on her hips. "How do you presume to change the mind of the most stubborn old sailor in all of England? If you can accomplish such a feat, I insist on knowing the secret, for I am certain I will need to effect such a miracle again in my lifetime."

He threw back his head and laughed. "Oh, madam, your tongue is a rapier, to be sure. I am wounded to the quick that you think so little of my abilities."

"It is no insult to you, for sure, sir, only a statement that you underestimate Papa's level of resolution."

"You do not know the weapon I will bring to bear." He tapped his fingers together in front of his chest.

"Then tell me that I might be shocked and amazed at this marvel of His Majesty's finest." Though she tried to suppress it, she rolled her eyes.

"If you will come inside, I will introduce you personally. I think you will find Lady Catherine a force far more formidable that you might currently believe." His eyebrows flashed up.

"Indeed?"

"Most certainly." He offered her his arm once more. "I believe it possible to win this skirmish without ever firing a shot."

"Lead on, sir."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5  
**

"He said what?" Lady Catherine fluttered her fan furiously. She sprang to her feet and paced the length of her sitting room, an angry hen on a mission.

"It sounds entirely like him, does it not?" Colonel Fitzwilliam's brows lifted high on his forehead. The corner of his lips lifted in a subtle, wry smile.

Elizabeth pressed her lips hard to contain a smirk. Did the colonel's contagious good humor no long sway his aunt? Although irritation still rippled beneath Elizabeth's smile, she could not resist his cheer.

Lady Catherine rolled her eyes and huffed. She made another circuit around the room, fan churning even faster. "The gall! The nerve of him! I cannot believe it!" She dropped down on the settee close to Elizabeth. "Please, let me apologize to you, my dear. I am so sorry he should have been such so churlish to you."

"Really, madam, you are making this into too much." Elizabeth folded her hands tightly in her lap. "There is no need to take offense on my account."

"No, forgive me, but I must disagree with you. From what you describe, it will not be long before he tries to tell me how to run this household, and I will certainly not stand for that." Lady Catherine pushed off the settee and strutted to the widow. There she stopped and leaned against the frame. She stared out at the small herd of sheep led past by a young shepherd. "If there is one thing I know, it is how to manage a household. Alas, my late husband had other ideas, and Rosings Park bore the sting of his mismanagement." She straightened her back and turned back toward them.

Elizabeth glanced at Colonel Fitzwilliam.

He shook his head fractionally and closed his eyes.

She blinked at him and looked back at Lady Catherine.

Tight little lines drew up along the sides of Lady Catherine's eyes, but she blinked them away quickly.

An empty ache opened in Elizabeth's chest. She swallowed back the tightness in her throat. "My stepmother was an excellent manager, and I am trying to follow in her stead now. But I often wish for her advice. This is not the first time we will be setting up a new household and hiring servants. We have often moved and done that. However, we have never had an establishment quite so large before. I would most welcome your insight in this process, madam."

"Given from what I have heard from your Mrs. Hill, who is a treasure, I might add." Lady Catherine dropped into a chair next to Colonel Fitzwilliam "You are quite accomplished for one so young."

Elizabeth's cheeks grew hot. "Mrs. Hill is very kind. She has been with us since before my own mother died."

"It seems Mrs. Reynolds and Mrs. Hill have quite hit it off," Colonel Fitzwilliam chuckled and leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs. "I found them in the kitchen early this morning cackling like a pair of old hens. She actually plied me with shortbread to get me out of the kitchen. She has not done that since Darcy and I were George and David's age." He licked his lips. "It was quite remarkable, really. I do not think I have ever heard our housekeeper so chatty."

"Of course, you have not. Who does she have to 'chat' with? Surely you do not see her engaging the lower servants in such conversation?" Lady Catherine snapped her fan shut. "Mrs. Reynolds has served Pemberly for nearly twenty five years now, and she is a model housekeeper in all respects."

Colonel Fitzwilliam leaned back further in his chair, hands raised in an attitude of surrender. "I was merely observing that she must esteem the Bennets' Mrs. Hill very much to be found in such a familiar situation."

"Certainly she does!" Lady Catherine slapped her fan into her palm. It crackled, an odd sound that reminded Elizabeth of a hen ruffling its wings. "I approve of Mrs. Hill."

Elizabeth watched Colonel Fitzwilliam out of the corner of her eye.

He struggled to control his smirk. Clearly he had never given up the game of baiting his aunt. He enjoyed it too well.

She seemed to know her role too. This was not their first round of this game, nor would it be their last. Lady Catherine's cheeks crinkled just a bit at the corners of her mouth.

Elizabeth contained her smile to her eyes. Despite Mr. Darcy's cold officiousness, this family was held together by warmth and affection, not unlike her own. Papa could appear unfeeling to those who did not know him better. Was it possible Mr. Darcy did as well?

"That is high praise indeed. I know there are few among the staff of whom you truly approve ." Colonel Fitzwilliam laced his fingers behind his head and spread his elbows wide.

Lady Catherine shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ignore him, Miss Elizabeth. He has no idea of what a trial it is to keep a household staffed or what it means to train them."

"And all those years—" He leaned forward, elbows on knees.

"—in the army drilling and training soldiers do not count. You cannot compare a soldier to a domestic servant. As much as you try to say that it is, it is not." Her lips turned up in a satisfied smile, and she settled herself back into the soft cushion of the chair. "And you are about to learn with your brother officer and cousin just how different it is."

"Now that is utterly uncalled for!" He sat up straight. His boots thudded on the carpet.

Elizabeth snickered into her hand.

"Come now, there is no need for you to get up your hackles. Settle back down there now." She waved her folded fan in his direction.

He leaned back into his seat with a wrinkled frown.

"Now, your help is entirely necessary if my plan is going to have a chance." Lady Catherine leaned forward, head cocked. She winked at Elizabeth, a conspiratorial glimmer in her eye.

"You have a plan, madam?" He laced his fingers in front of his chest. His chin came to rest atop his knuckles.

"I do, indeed, and if Miss Bennet is agreeable, it can be enacted even tomorrow afternoon, or the morning after, if you believe it can wait that long."

"I am most anxious to hear what you are considering." Elizabeth held the corner of her lower lip in her teeth. "I trust…I mean that is to say…I do not wish…"

Lady Catherine stretched to touch Elizabeth's hand. "I have no desire to dishonor your father nor my nephew. Such tactics reap only bitterness."

"Thank you, madam." Elizabeth blinked back the moisture in her eyes. "I know Papa will want to begin staffing the estate as soon as possible, so—"

"We must begin immediately." Lady Catherine beckoned them close. "It is of utmost importance that neither of them suspect…"

Half an hour later, Elizabeth left her conference with Lady Catherine on an errand to find Mrs. Hill and Mrs. Reynolds. Their assistance would be crucial. Both women were entirely ready to assist, fully realizing the importance of convincing a demanding master of what was indeed possible and what was out of the question even for the most well train staff.

Later that evening, the boys were invited to join the adults at the table for supper. Miss Wexley and Miss Mallory were given an evening respite and enjoyed a quite supper in their rooms.

Downstairs, dinner was a noisy, lively affair. The boys finished one another's sentences, describing their adventures along the streams and in Pemberley's tree house. Their morning had been spent watching for fish in the streams and identifying to best places for fishing later in the week. Francis, of course, had fallen into the stream, requiring George to assist him in getting out. David and Philip kept clear of that particular mischief and reveled in relating the governesses' scolding.

Elizabeth gave up trying not to laugh at her brothers' antics. She did not want to encourage them, for there was no malice in them, just the energy of childhood. Jane did not laugh, but she smiled her beatific smile that few gentlemen could ignore.

Elizabeth watched carefully. Colonel Fitzwilliam succumbed to Jane's charms almost immediately, his eyes remaining fixed on the elder Bennet sister for the rest of the evening. Mr. Darcy, however, seemed unmoved. No, "unmoved" was not the right word for it. His eyes did light up when his gaze passed over Jane, but he did not fix on her the way his cousin did. Oddly enough, several times, she found his gaze on her.

No man gazed at her but to find fault. Her cheeks blazed hot, and she fixed her eyes on her plate. What fault did Mr. Darcy find with her? Her ready opinions on far too many topics? Or was it her willingness to sit on the floor and play soldiers with the boys? Regardless, he would not have to look far to find whatever fault he looked for. There were plenty enough for him to find.

She placed another bite of mutton in her mouth and focused on her plate as she chewed. Perhaps if she did not look his direction, her cheeks would finally cool. But the boys finished their tales and conversation lulled. She felt Mr. Darcy's eyes on her again.

To her great relief, Colonel Fitzwilliam filled the lull by regaling them with tales of the tree house's first generation of occupants. Elizabeth fought to keep her eyes on Colonel Fitzwilliam but could not help stealing brief glances at Mr. Darcy, who squirmed and looked uncomfortable through most of the conversation.

Elizabeth watched Jane study Mr. Darcy. The elder Miss Bennet had never been able to sit by when another was uncomfortable in her company. Soon she was sharing her impressions of Naples, the port where her fondest memories resided, and Mr. Darcy ceased his fidgeting.

Colonel Fitzwilliam plied Jane with questions and encouraged her to share more of her tales. Even Francis and Philip, who had heard them many times, were entranced by her uncanny ability to mimic the accents from those distant shores. George and David had never heard such a thing and were utterly enthralled by her. Elizabeth averted her eyes from Colonel Fitzwilliam's too obvious appreciation for her sister's story telling abilities. It seemed Jane had another conquest and did not even realize it.

But that was the way of it. Jane had admirers all over the kingdom and was unaware of most of them. Admiral Bennet proved a formidable obstacle to would-be suitors, and that was probably a good thing. Perhaps Colonel Fitzwilliam would be more acceptable to both Jane and her father.

After dinner they all adjourned to the drawing room. Elizabeth saw the weariness in Jane's eyes, so she feigned a headache that required Jane's attentions for relief and excused them both for the evening.

They boys were all sent to bed shortly thereafter, with Lady Catherine following. The three gentlemen, however, finding themselves in such convivial company, drank brandy, swapped stories and played cards nearly until dawn.

Two mornings later, Elizabeth stood with Jane and a maid in the dressing room they shared. Mid-morning sun streamed through the window, glimmering off Jane's golden locks. Elizabeth looked over her shoulder and dismissed the maid with a smile.

"Are you up to a trip into town today?" Elizabeth tucked a final pin into place and laid a hand on Jane's shoulder.

"You worry too much, Lizzy. I am quite well." Jane patted her hand and pushed back from the dressing table. She rose and shook out her skirt. "I would quite like to get out today. Lambton is a very quaint little place, and I am sure Lady Catherine is well acquainted with the most trustworthy shopkeepers."

Elizabeth laughed. "She is quite the force to be reckoned with. She is all that is gracious and ladylike, but I cannot imagine the shopkeeper who would attempt to be less than entirely honest with her accounts."

Jane smiled, her eyes twinkling. "Indeed. I am so glad for her welcome, though she makes me miss Lady Ellen all the more." She blinked rapidly.

"I know." Elizabeth looked at the carpet. Richly woven in a dainty floral pattern, it was the kind of piece Lady Ellen would have selected for a guestroom. Elizabeth swallowed hard. "Are you certain you are strong enough—"

"Enough, Lizzy. You must stop fussing over me—and Phillip too. We are stronger that you believe. If you do not stop hovering so, you will drive our quiet little brother to something to prove you wrong."

Lizzy covered her eyes with her hand and grimaced. I am sure Francis and now George will have a ready supply of ideas for him too."

"Exactly." Jane took Lizzy's hand. "So, now, stop fretting over us. I know you worry, but truly, we are well."

Lizzy drew a breath. Jane never wanted her to worry, but Lizzy did not miss the way Jane tried to conceal her exhaustion or withdrew from company to nap in the afternoons. Yet arguing would do no good. It never did. In her own gentle way, Jane was without a doubt the most stubborn person she knew—herself excepted, of course. "I think Lady Catherine is waiting for us in the morning room. We should join her."

Jane smiled and led the way downstairs. Breakfast was spread out on the table in the morning room. Warm smells of baked goods and coffee wafted along the sunbeams to welcome them in.

Lady Catherine, her nephews and Admiral Bennet were already engaged in a lively debate over kippers and toast. Her fan fluttered in time with her agitation.

Lizzy suppressed her impertinent grin and instead greeted Lady Catherine and the gentlemen. She took a chair beside her hostess, and Jane sat on the other side.

"Are you looking forward to our trip into Lambton today?" Lady Catherine asked, passing a dish of kippers toward Jane.

"Yes, very much so." Jane took the kippers and dished several onto her plate.

"It is very good of you to show them around town," Admiral Bennet dipped his head.

"Do not think so much of it." Richard chuckled, ducking Darcy's dark glare. "Our dear aunt is happy for any excuse to visit the confectioner. She supplies George and David with far more sweets that their father or governess would otherwise allow."

"Enough of that." Lady Catherine waved her fan at him. "I was going to invite you to escort us, but I do not think we need such impertinent company."

"I am crushed. I would be most happy to—"

"No, no, I am quite decided. If you are to return to my good graces, you must do me a favor whilst I am out." She snapped her fan closed.

Lizzy bit her lip hard and held her breath.

"What might that favor be? You know I would do anything for you, dear Aunt." Fitzwilliam's eyes twinkled as he schooled his features into a mask of contrition. He placed his hand over his heart.

"Nothing difficult. We need a new maid. Mrs. Reynolds arranged for a young lady to call today to discuss her fitness for the position. Since I will be with the Miss Bennets in town, you can decide if she will be invited to join our household staff." Lady Catherine folded her hands and laid them on the table, her fan tucked neatly beneath them.

"That is all? What a small price to pay for return to your favor!" Fitzwilliam threw his head back and chuckled. "And just to prove I intend to make a good job of it, Darcy and the good Admiral can help me. Surely with all of us on the task, you can have no doubt—"

Lady Catherine flicked her hand and looked at Lizzy. "Enough. Let me see the job well done, and then I will smile on you, but not before." She winked.

"I think it is a fine idea." Admiral Bennet leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers before his chest.

"Indeed, Papa?" Jane asked, a finely arched eyebrow lifted on her forehead. "I have never known you to desire any involvement in the household staffing."

"Then it is time to change that." He nodded sharply. "I will welcome the opportunity. "

"Excellent. Then I can be certain that my impulsive nephew shall not hire a girl just for a pretty face." Lady Catherine rose.

"Aunt," Darcy snapped and frowned, "you know very well I do not allow such thing. I take the protection of my staff as a matter of personal honor." He tugged the lapels of his coat.

"Of course, you do. I was not suggesting otherwise." She shook her head and smiled. "You are the best of masters, without a doubt, and all your staff agree. That is why there is never a dearth of applicants for positions here." She stepped away from the table and looked over her shoulder. "Come along, ladies, we have much to accomplish today."

Jane and Lizzy rose and edged around the table to their father's sides. Simultaneously, they kissed his cheeks. "Good bye, Papa."

He smiled and waved them off.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Several hours later, Mrs. Reynolds announced the candidate's arrival. The gentlemen gathered in Darcy's study for the interview.

A whisper of a girl in apron and mobcap stood before them, wringing her hands, and eyes on the carpet.

"Sir, Miss Clay to apply for a position in the house." Mrs. Reynolds curtsied and signaled the young woman to follow suit.

Miss Clay dropped awkwardly, her face pale.

Fitzwilliam closed his eyes and shook his head. Poor girl had no idea the master of the house would see her himself.

Darcy nodded and dismissed Mrs. Reynolds.

"I brung a character, sir." Miss Clay fumbled in her pocket and produced a letter. She held out the creased paper with trembling hands.

Darcy waved her forward until he could reach across the desk and take the letter from her. He broke the seal and scanned the page, nodding as he read. "Very good. Your previous mistress speaks highly of you." He laid the paper aside and looked at her.

She looked back at him, blinking and tongue-tied.

Awkward silence descended until even Admiral Bennet pulled at his collar awkwardly.

Fitzwilliam schooled his features into a neutral mien and leaned forward , elbows on knees. "Well, why do you not show us the fitness of your work?"

"Capitol idea!" Bennet sprang to his feet. "Let us upstairs and you can demonstrate…ah…how you can make up a bed."

The girl blinked rapidly, clenching her apron in her fist. "Yes, sir, very good sir." She attempted another awkward curtsey.

"An excellent place to start." Darcy pushed up from his desk.

He led them all upstairs to an empty guest room. They walked in and stared at the immaculate, sunlit room. The pale yellow wallpaper gleamed with warmth. Every pillow and bric-a-brac was in place, no dust in sight. Bennet looked at Darcy and swallowed hard.

Fitzwilliam stifled a laugh and strode to the bed. He grabbed the linens and yanked them back and off the bed. He tossed the counterpane on the floor on the far side of the bed, a heavy wool blanket over the foot and tore the sheets out from under the mattress. "There, now, you have a bed to make." He brushed his hands together and stepped aside, hand extended to the confused girl.

She stood rooted to the ground, her forehead creased, lip caught between her teeth. She blinked at him.

"Get to it, lass. Do not stand about there all stupid like." Bennet clapped his hands sharply.

She jumped and scampered to the disheveled linens. For several minutes she struggled with the linens and heavy mattress.

Darcy grunted.

She started, turned sharply and became tangled in the bed curtains.

"Bah!" Bennet stomped to the bed. "Are you so inept as to be unable to make a bed! Here have a look." He shouldered her out of the way.

She stepped back, mouth agape.

Bennet took control of the situation. He patiently explained, step by painstaking step, until the bed was skillfully made.

"I see, sir," she squeaked, hands clasped under her chin.

"Now, you do it." Bennet tore the sheets aside and returned the bed to its disheveled state.

Tears gathered in the girls eyes, but she drew a deep breath and set to the task. Bennet stopped and corrected her several times, but at last, the bed was made passably well.

Bennet glanced at Darcy who frowned and shook his head.

"What about a fire? Surely you can impress us with that." Fitzwilliam leaned his shoulder against the wall and crossed on ankle over the other.

"Right, sir." Miss Clay wiped her hands on her apron and approached the fireplace like it was a vicious animal. She knelt beside the coal bucket. "Where be the kindling sir?" Her voice was little more than a strained whisper.

"The box there on the other side." Darcy pointed. "The family rooms do not have a kindling box. I expect the fires to those rooms to be kindled only once, on the first day of November. I wish them perpetuated thereafter."

She stared at him wide-eyed.

"How would you accomplish the task?" Darcy folded his arms and frowned.

"Ah…" she wiped dirty hands on her apron leaving a trail of smudges. "Ask Mrs. Reynolds?"

Fitzwilliam laughed loudly. Bennet snickered into his hand.

"A reasonable answer. Say she told you to replenish the fires three times a day, how would you do it?" Darcy kept his eyes away from the other gentlemen.

She reached for the poker. "I…I would first take the poker to quicken the blaze, break up large coals dontcha know. Then I change around the pieces—"

"No, no, no!" Bennet waved his hands and stomped his foot.

Miss Clay jumped and whipped around to stare at Bennet.

He stalked to the fireplace and grabbed the poker out of the girl's hands. "You use the poker to clear away the ash and nothing more! You do not use it to wake a slumbering coal! Foolish girl! Watch."

Miss Clay scooted back to allow the admiral room. He reached for the tinderbox and walked her stepwise through the process of starting the coals and replenishing a fire. "Do you think you can do this?"

"Yes, sir," she peeped, eyes firmly on the ground.

Bennet pushed himself up from the floor and brushed off his hands. "Well, then, I have no further questions. Have you?" He looked at Darcy.

Darcy shook his head. "No, I have seen enough."

Fitzwilliam held his breath, though a snort escaped.

Darcy glared at Fitzwilliam and gestured them toward the door. Mrs. Reynolds met them at the bottom of the stairs. He shook his head at the housekeeper and turned toward his study. Bennet followed.

When they were out of site, Fitzwilliam pulled a coin out of his pocket and pressed it into the girl's palm. He winked and followed the men into the study.

Darcy stood at the far side of the room, pouring glasses. Bennet sprawled in a chair near the fireplace, arm thrown over his eyes. Darcy brought glasses to them.

"Are they all like that?" Bennet asked and took a deep draw off his glass.

Richard lifted his glass slightly and raised an eyebrow. "That is what Mrs. Reynolds tells me."

Bennet groaned and chuffed a deep breath. "I suppose, sir," he turned toward to Darcy, "I must ask to impose upon your hospitality for longer than I expected."

"Think nothing of it." Darcy dropped down into his chair. "You and your family are welcome for the duration. I am certain my aunt will be delighted to have the Miss Bennets' company." He sipped his glass. "Perhaps we should leave the household staff to the ladies. I am certain, however, I can assist you, if you like, in finding a steward."

"A sensible plan indeed," Bennet said.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The ladies returned to Pemberly in the late afternoon, following a most successful trip to Lambton. Not only did they see the best shops and meet the shopkeepers, but Lady Catherine introduced them to several of their new neighbors, who were most pleased to make their acquaintances. The highlight of the trip was the visit to the confectioner. Georgiana bounced like a little girl at the new assortment of sweets brought out in honor of their arrival. Both Jane and Elizabeth agreed that these were among the best sweets they had ever enjoyed.

Jane and Lady Catherine retreated upstairs to rest before dinner—and in Lady Catherine's case, to hide a fresh supply of treats for the boys from the watchful eyes of their governess. Elizabeth paused at the foot of the stairs, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. She studied Jane's movements for any sign of fatigue. Perhaps Jane was correct, her strength had returned. That would be a relief.

"Miss Elizabeth?" Georgiana asked softly.

Elizabeth shook her head and turned to look at Georgiana. "Forgive me. I was a bit distracted for a moment there."

"Are you fatigued?"

"No. Thank you for your concern. I just need to learn to stop my wool gathering." Elizabeth untied her bonnet.

"Oh, no do not ever do that!" Georgiana's eyes grew wide.

"Why do you say that? No one has ever given me such an injunction. It is usually quite the opposite."

Georgiana blinked and looked down, clasping her hands before her. "You have the most charming anecdotes. I love to listen to all your stories."

Elizabeth shrugged. "Those are just things that have happened to us. I am not sure how that relates."

"I know, but the way you tell them is so—so appealing. You speak so kindly, even of those who are most ridiculous. Surely it must take a great deal of reflection to be able to do so." Georgiana blushed and stared at her hands. "I imagine that must be what you are doing when you say you are wool gathering."

Elizabeth's face flashed hot. Her cheeks prickled and ears burned. She opened her mouth but closed it again when no words came forth.

"Oh!" Georgiana's covered her mouth with her hands. "I have embarrassed you! I am so sorry. I…I just admired…"

Elizabeth touched Georgiana's hand. "No, no, do not be concerned. I was only a bit startled. I cannot say anyone else has ever made note—"

"I was most improper of me. I never say the right thing." her voice hitched.

"Not at all, it was most kind. I am most complimented."

Georgiana blinked up at her, eyes bright. "Truly?"

"Absolutely." Elizabeth smiled broadly, though her cheeks still radiated heat.

"Good day, Miss Georgiana, Lizzy."

Both turned. Admiral Bennet strode toward them, settling his hat into place. "I am glad to see you have come back and looking so pleased." He nodded toward them. "Had you a pleasant outing?"

Elizabeth wrapped her arm in Georgiana's. "Very much so. Lady Catherine was so gracious in her efforts to introduce the best shopkeepers. I feel quite at home in Lambton now."

"Capitol." He tugged his coat. "I am taking a turn about the gardens. Would you care to accompany me?"

"Forgive me, sir." Georgiana curtsied. "My aunt directed me to return to my rooms to rest before dinner. I should go there now."

"Lizzy?" He offered the crook of his arm.

She slipped her hand in his arm and nodded. Georgiana climbed the stairs while the Bennets left for the garden.

For a quarter mile, Elizabeth and her father quietly wandered the shady path that led into the woods. Cool breezes darted among the trees, laced with the fragrance of loam and a touch of spring flowers. Somewhere in the dense canopy above a bird called to its mate and was answered in kind.

"I do believe there are paths like this on Alston's grounds," Admiral Bennet murmured, craning his neck toward the birdcalls.

"As much as I admire Pemberley's gardens, I shall enjoy walking our own. Perhaps Mr. Darcy or his steward might assist us in finding a competent gardener."

"Ah, yes, about that." He paused and released Elizabeth's arm. He cleared his throat and thumbed his labels. "Darcy has offered his help in finding a steward for Alston and given the alacrity with which we wish to accomplish settling in, it may be best for me to focus my efforts on the estate and allow you and Mrs. Hill to manage the house."

She pressed her lips tightly to suppress her smile. While his admission was pleasing, it was not enough, not if she was going to successfully act as mistress of Alston Hall. She stared at him and raised an eyebrow.

He ran a finger along the inside of his cravat and tugged it away from his throat. "Eh…I imagine this would be agreeable to you?"

She cocked her head and crossed her arms.

"Aye, Lizzy, just come out with it now."

"With what, sir?"

He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. "A wise officer should trust his crew to know their business and let them be about it. I…I forgot that for a moment." The corners of his eyes and mouth drooped just a bit, and he sighed heavily.

She tucked her hand into his elbow again. "Mrs. Hill and I shall begin the process immediately."

He patted her hand, and they strolled further down the path.

[i] _Thwack! Crack! Whack! Crack![/_i]

"What the devil?" He stopped and scanned the woods.

Boyish laughter rang out.

"The boys found their swords!" Lizzy laughed and led the way through the trees. A small clearing opened up. In the center George and Francis faced each other, brandishing well-used wooden swords.

"Papa! Lizzy!" Philip shouted and ran toward them. He grabbed his father around the knees. "Miss Wexley gave us permission, sir." He looked up, blinking wide eyes.

"Of course she did." Papa ruffled Philip's hair.

"Come watch! George and David have never…" Philips grabbed his father's hand and dragged him into the clearing. "You can show them!"

Laughing, Lizzy followed behind.

"I dread to think the mischief those two have found." Darcy huffed. He stalked down the familiar well-worn path.

"You worry far too much, old man!" Fitzwilliam broke into a jog to catch up. "Miss Mallory said she gave them leave to play with their friends."

"That is precisely the point. All four of those boys, unsupervised?" Darcy threw his hands in the air and increased his pace.

"You and Wickham and I ran all over Pemberley unsupervised when we were their ages."

"I know, I know. Why do you think I am so concerned? If the three of us could get into that many scrapes, just think what George and David might be capable of under the influence of the Bennet twins?"

"Now be fair. They are fine boys—" Fitzwilliam breathed heavily.

"Fine, intelligent, energetic—"

"I see your point. " Fitzwilliam chuckled and increased his pace to keep up. "Young Master Francis—"

"He is just like you. The one who needs the most watching is his brother."

"Quiet little Philip? Surely not, his is just like you—" Fitzwilliam skidded to a stop and stared at Darcy.

Darcy flashed a tense smile and rushed past.

Richard rolled his eyes and trotted after him.

[i] _Thwack! Crack! Whack! Crack![/_i]

"There!" Darcy pointed toward the clearing where he, Fitzwilliam and Wickham had played as boys.

"Right like that! Capitol! Capitol! Parry! Yes, again!" Bennet clapped his hands sharply.

"Don't go easy on him, Lizzy! You can do better than that!" Francis pumped his fists at his sides.

"He is just a beginner. I was easy on you when you first learnt." Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder and neatly? dodged a neat? thrust from the wooden sword in George Darcy's hand.

"Papa!" David bounced up and down on his toes and waved. "Francis and Phillip have been showing us how to fight with swords."

"I can see that." Darcy strode to Bennet's side. "You have talked about little else since your friends arrived."

"See what I can do, Papa!" George shouted and swung his sword at Elizabeth.

"Oh!" She spun away and threw up her wooden sword to block. "You must remember to announce the start of a bout!"

"Sorry, Miss Elizabeth!" George looked down briefly.

"So you are the boys' sparring partner, or their teacher?" Fitzwilliam chuckled and cocked his eyebrow.

"Papa is the teacher." Elizabeth dipped her head toward her father. "And a very fine one at that."

"But she is very good, Uncle Fitz!" David exclaimed, rushing up toward them. "I bet she is as good as you!"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Her cheeks reddened. "That was not a kind thing to say, Master David."

"But he's right, Lizzy!" Philip appeared at her side. "You are the best sword player in the family."

"Here." David took the sword from his brother's hand and pressed it at Fitzwilliam. "You try."

Fitzwilliam took the carved hardwood sword and turned it over in his hand. "This is a very fine practice sword." He glanced at Elizabeth and winked.

"Oh yes!" David and Philip bounced in unison.

"With your permission, Admiral?" Fitzwilliam raised the wooden sword in a solemn salute.

Bennet chuckled under his breath and took a small step backward. "Granted, but do not say you have not been warned. I taught her myself."

"Miss Elizabeth?" Fitzwilliam saluted her with sword.

She looked at Bennet, who grinned and nodded.

"Really, Richard!" Darcy huffed and crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth nodded and circled each other in the clearing.

Darcy held his breath, his heart beating a tattoo in his chest. How improper of both of them. But how compelling! She moved with a feline grace and assurance, unlike any woman he had known before. None on the dance floor could have matched the precision of her movements, the elegance of her style. He could not tear his eyes away. She bewitched him with every step, every clash of wood, every twist and dodge. Stunning, simply stunning.

She met Fitzwilliam's feint and thrust, besting his strength with her grace. How he envied his cousin. What would it be like to face such a partner? The acid taste of jealousy painted his tongue.

Fitzwilliam saw an advantage and seized it, backing her toward the stand of trees. Her foot snagged on a root, and she fell heavily on her side with a grunt. Dust and dry leaves flew up. Fitzwilliam slid forward, sword poised to finish the match.

With her free hand, she threw a handful of dirt into his face. With the other she pushed herself up and back to her feet.

Fitzwilliam shouted and staggered back, wiping the dirt from his face. "Gah!"

"And touché!" Elizabeth grinned, her sword touching his chest.

Fitzwilliam wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "That was decidedly ungentlemanly."

"I am not a gentleman." Elizabeth handed the sword to Philip and brushed the dirt from her shoulder and hands. She glanced over her shoulder.

Admiral Bennet approached. "Given some of the places we lived, I made sure my ladies could protect themselves." He placed his hand on the small of her back. "You must agree, Colonel, that if a woman takes up a sword, it is not likely a gentleman she will be facing."

"You are most correct, Admiral." He handed his sword to an impatient George. "Well done, Miss Elizabeth. I am most honored to have sparred with you." Fitzwilliam bowed deeply.

She curtsied. "If you will excuse me, I think it time for me to return to the house." Eyes fixed on the ground, she turned away.

Several steps later, she stood nose to nose with Darcy.

"Excuse me, sir!" she sputtered.

Her nearness stopped his heart. The fragrance of honeysuckle filled his awareness. He scarcely breathed for fear she would run away but longed to drink in the scent. Though he knew he was staring, he could not sooner tear his eyes form her than he could step away.

"I am sorry. I should have been paying better attention. Pray excuse me." She edged back and dropped a tiny curtsey.

"No, no, not at all. It was my…I…that was the most…"

"Unladylike display. I know. You must forgive me. I forget myself sometimes. We have lived far from civilized society for perhaps too long." She dropped her gaze. "Certainly you would not wish your sister—"

"No, no, not at all—"

Her face flushed and eyes brightened. She looked away and rubbed her shoulders.

Oh, no, what had she understood him to say? He drew a deep breath and prayed to find better words. "Are you injured, Miss Bennet?"

"No, sir. Thank you, I am quite well." Her hands dropped from her shoulders, and she clasped them before her.

His heart clenched with each beat, aching. "I am certain the boys—"

"Excuse me, sir. I must return to the house." She hurried away.

He stared after her, his strength draining away with the distance between them.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Lady Catherine swept into Darcy's office without knocking. Her skirts swooshed, the sound of the winds on the cusp of a thunderstorm.

"What can I do for you, Aunt?" Darcy peeked up over the papers he had been reading.

"What did you say to her?" Lady Catherine planted her hands hard on his desk, fire in her eyes.

"To whom?"

She shot him a glare that would curdle milk.

Darcy huffed, but the crest of his cheeks heated. "I said nothing."

"Surely you said something. The poor girl was beside herself when she returned to her room." She picked up the fan she had left in the study the last time she visited him there.

"I hardly think that the case. Miss Bennet is hardly given to such inappropriate displays." Darcy pushed back from his desk. He rose and stalked past her to the window. Little good it would do. Lady Catherine with a cause would not be so easily deterred.

"What did you find to criticize, Darcy? Was her behavior—"

"Enough!" He whirled.

Lady Catherine stood far too close, her eyes far too penetrating and perceptive. "What happened?" She edged closer still, tapping her closed fan in her palm.

Escape was impossible. _[i]Shuck. Shuck. Shuck.[/i]_ How he hated that sound. It always preceded pleasantries. He tugged his collar. "Nothing. Fitzwilliam and I went to look for the boys. We found them playing at swords with the Admiral and Miss Bennet." He focused on a spot on the wall over her head. Images of Elizabeth, wooden sword in hand flashed through his mind. How easily she had eluded Fitzwilliams feints. Mesmerizing… He tugged his collar again.

"From the look on your face I would say Miss Bennet joined in their games."

He barely nodded.

"She assumed you disapproved—which is not at all difficult, considering that fierce mien you constantly wear these days." She tapped his cheek with her fan, hard enough to leave a sting.

"You go too far madam."

"I do not go far enough. Your mother would be horrified at your lack of hospitality. My dearest Anne would never have stood for it. You never dared use that look with her, at least not after the first time, did you. You should have learned to set it aside by now."

He glowered and sidestepped away.

"That poor girl has been through enough. She does not need you adding to her sorrow."

_[i]Shuck. Shuck. Shuck.[/i]_ The blasted fan in her palm again. He ground his teeth. "What are you talking about?" He stalked across the room. Away from that wretched fan.

"Think of it Darcy. You are not simpleton, you can puzzle it out, I am sure."

"I cannot fathom to what you allude."

"Oy," she huffed and hastened toward him. "What kind of reception do you think a woman like her has received by the Ton?"

"You mean one sponsored by a prince, with a father as decorated and connected as the Admiral, and a handsome fortune to her name?" He rolled his eyes.

"You are being intentionally difficult." She snapped her fan open and fluttered it sharply. "She is all those things and a striking and intelligent, unconventional and outspoken."

"I do not understand what that signifies."

"Really? Must I spell it out?"

"As you see." He threw his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I do not have time for this. Come out and tell me plainly what you wish me to understand or leave me, I have significant work that needs be done."

"To poor dear has been treated infamously by no less than three suitors vying for her hand." She crossed her arms, tucking her fan into her elbow. "You cannot be surprised they were more interested in her fortune and connections that in her. Though they played at obtaining her friendship, they spoke infamously of her behind her back."

"Of what concern is this to me?"

"Just listen. When she discovered their duplicity, she rejected them soundly. They in turn spread vicious gossip about her to any who would listen. Though some refused to believe it, there were many women, jealous one, only too happy to take revenge on one so far above themselves in fortune and consequence."

"And I imagine she told you of this herself." He frowned and looked at the ceiling. Suck treatment by the _[i]Ton[/i] _was hardly surprising. There were reasons he avoided London.

"Certainly not. The dear girl hardly speaks of herself, or had you not noticed? Not, it was her sister—after she inquired what intentions you might have toward her sister." Lady Catherine poked him in the chest with her fan.

"My intentions toward her sister?" He sputtered and edged backwards. The top of his ears burned.

"You think you are so subtle with those looks you and Fitzwilliam give both those girls."

"That is enough, madam. You have now gone too far."

"I hardly think so. They are both worthy young ladies. Not to mention their fortunes—"

"I am not in need of a woman's fortune to fill my coffers. Pemberley is quite solvent, thank you." He strode to his desk.

"My Anne's dowry—"

"Is settled upon her younger son so he will not face Fitzwilliam's fate. I have not touched a pound of it, nor will I."

Lady Catherine shut her mouth and exhaled heavily. "We are very grateful for that. Your management is impeccable. I do not mean to question that at all."

Darcy tugged his coat and cleared his throat.

"You cannot deny she is a brilliant match, though."

"I am in no mood to give consequence to young ladies slighted by other men." He slammed his hands on his desk.

"All right. You will feel the fool soon enough when you realize what you have lost. But as a gentleman, at the very least you should apologize for discomposing her so."

"I do not wish to elevate—"

"Oh do not fear," Lady Catherine's voice crackled with frost, "I have no doubt she is certain of your contempt. Your apology will not raise her hopes, not that she has any to begin with." She slapped her fan closed and flounced from the room.

Darcy wandered around the room, emptiness filling his belly. The burden overwhelmed him and he sank into his favorite chair. What was more troubling, that Lady Catherine could see his admiration for Miss Elizabeth or that Miss Elizabeth could not? He knew her upset, but the thought of hurting her was insupportable. Somehow he had to rectify the misunderstanding. He could not abide the idea that she might be somewhere in the world thinking ill of him.

Other suitors admired her. The notion sickened him. Their mistreatment of her was even worse. To be counted among them would not do. But what could he say? It was entirely true, he did not wish to raise her hopes. He had no need to marry. As for inclination, he could not be certain. Marriage to Anne had not been unpleasant, but in the years since her death, he found himself content with his family as it was. Disrupting such equanimity did not seem wise. But Miss Elizabeth was such a woman! She was the first he ever considered might be worth the risk.


	9. Chapter 9

Scene 12

A sharp rap sounded at the door.

"Come."

The butler entered and bowed. "Mr. Wickham to see you, sir."

Darcy straightened in his seat. He pushed up from his chair. "Very good, show him in." Wickham's timing was excellent, he needed a distraction, but there was nothing unusual about that. Wickham usually appeared at the more opportune moments. How did me manage that?

A moment later, Wickham strode in behind the butler. Well groomed and well dressed, a ready smile and warm handshake completed Wickham's ensemble Impeccable as always.

"So glad you received my invitation." Darcy pumped his hand.

"When have you known me to ignore an invitation to Pemberley?" Wickham laughed and sat near Darcy.

"When have you ever needed an invitation?" Darcy leaned back and crossed his legs. "I am wounded indeed. How long have you been in Lambton and not sent word? Had my man failed to see you in town, I might never have known."

"Only a few days, old friend. Do not think I was slighting you." Wickham laced his hands and cocked his head. His easy smile warmed the room.

"I cannot believe you would rather stay at that second rate establishment—" Darcy's lip curled.

"I must live within my means, Darcy. But do not take that decision as reflecting my preferences." Wickham snorted softly. "I cannot think of a place that pleases me more than Pemberley."

"You know you have an open invitation here whenever you are in Derbyshire."

"I could not impose on your hospitality so glibly."

"Nonsense. It is a small enough thing to do for so old a friend."

Wickham brushed the idea aside. "I heard you already had company and had no desire to disrupt your company.."

"Indeed we do—an Admiral Bennet and his family. In fact, that is why I invited you for dinner."

Wickham leaned forward, elbows braced on the arms of the chair. "He has daughters?" His eyebrows rose and twitched.

Darcy threw back his head and laughed. "You have not lost your sense of humor." It was too bad that they were so much above Wickham though. It was a shame he had not yet found an appropriate match. But the Bennet ladies certainly would not suit. Their father could not approve. Nor did Darcy. The thought knotted his gut just a little.

Wickham laughed but it ended in a thin wheeze. "What does a man have left if he cannot laugh? No, no amount of misfortune will take that from me."

"Think of that no more. I believe your fortunes are about to improve. I have found you a situation that will fit you very will indeed." Darcy looped his hands over his knee.

"Tell me more."

"The Admiral has just taken Alston Hall and is in need of a steward."

The corners of Wickham's lips wrinkled and he nodded. "Interesting."

"You are your father's son and a law clerk to boot. Who better to recommend to the post?"

"It sounds to be an excellent opportunity for the right man." Wickham rubbed his knuckles along his lips. "But you must realize, Mr. Locke did not give me any letter of reference when I left his employ." He looked aside, eyebrows drooping.

"Right unfair of the old chap I know, but that will not matter." Darcy clapped Wickham's shoulder. "I will speak for you and I am certain that will be more than sufficient for Admiral Bennet."

Wickham's brows drew together and he glance back at Darcy. "He is an old man?"

"Hardly. His two daughters are grown but that does not make him old. He is a very fit and able man, and an exacting one as well. Ran quite the tight ship as far as I can tell."

"What have I don't to you that you would send me to the navy?" Wickham's lips curling into something that was neither laugh nor sneer.

Darcy chuckled. "His sons do salute—they have George and David doing it to. Quite the sight to see, it is. His man is an old sailor who followed him landside, Piper they call him. Coarse and gruff to be certain, but not intolerable to work with, I am certain. His devotion to the family is quite admirable—"

"But a navy man? Really Darcy, one might think you disliked me to put me in such a position."

"How can you say such a thing, Wickham? I am well aware of how much I owe you. I would not recommend anything less than the best of situations to you. How could you think anything else?"

Wickham's face softened and his smile bloomed again. "You are correct, forgive me. I fear I have become cynical after my experience with Locke."

"I know it was very difficult for you. We all had such great hopes for your employment there."

Wickham shrugged. "One day I was in his good graces and the next day he turned on me and threw me out without so much as even the pay he owed me. I regret that experience soured me. You deserve better from me. You have always been the best of friends to me."

"Are you in straights? Do you need money?"

"No, no, I cannot ask such a thing—" Wickham raised his hands.

Darcy jumped up and strode to his desk. "Here." He handed Wickham a ten pound note. "Take your leave of that inn and stay here. I am certain you will soon settle with Admiral Bennet and your state of affairs will become much more secure."

Wickham hesitated a moment, then took the money and tucked it into his coat pocket. "Thank you, it is difficult to accept your charity, but sometimes a man must put his pride aside. You are very good to me." He licked his lips and sighed. "I will take you up on your offer. Do you think I have time to go back to town and gather my things before dinner?"

"Certainly. I will have rooms readied for you in the meantime."

They stood. Wickham offered his hand. Darcy shook it hard.

"Thank you, Darcy." Wickham nodded and left.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

After the final course was finished, the ladies withdrew, leaving the men to their port, cigars and serious conversation.

"So how go your efforts to settle into Alston Hall? I believe that is the name of your estate, is it not?" Wickham asked, leaning back in his chair.

Bennet swirled his glass and took a long sip. "A fine vintage you have brought out tonight, Mr. Darcy, very fine—as to settling in, that is another matter entirely. The whole process is far too slow."

"Things move much faster when all you need do is give the order and watch your juniors carry it out, eh?" Fitzwilliam leaned in to elbow Bennet's shoulder.

"It does make me miss the sea t times." Bennet raked his hair. "My Lizzy makes excellent progress with the household staff. She already has them at the house working to ready it to move in. It still cannot be soon enough for me."

"One cannot underestimate the advantages of being at home." Darcy laced his fingers and rested his chin atop them. "And it is to that very point that I invited Mr. Wickham to join us tonight. I do not wish to imply any desire to see and you family depart—"

"George and David will be crushed at that eventuality as it is." Fitzwilliam chuckled.

"True enough," Darcy and Bennet exchanged glances and rolled their eyes.

"Those scamps have become inseparable, have they not?" Bennet shook his head.

"As we were as youths?" Wickham asked.

"It would seem." Darcy smiled. "Be that as it may, I have no doubt you would prefer your own home even to mine. But you need a staff in place for that to happen. I believe Wickham can fill your need for a steward quite admirably. Between his experience as a law clerk and what he learned at his father's knee about managing Pemberley, I am certain you will find not better candidate for the position."

"You are far too kind, my friend." Wickham mopped his brow with a napkin. "I am sure though, Admiral, that you will find my lack of references far too great an obstacle to overcome." He sighed, shoulder's drooping. "I take no offense, I quite understand—"

Bennet lifted his hand. "No wait."

Wickham looked up.

"I have seen it enough times in the Navy. I know the power one man can have to make or break the careers of those beneath him. My own man was one who had it happen. He got on the wrong side of a powerful man. All it took was an unfortunate hand at cards and Piper's career was marked forever." Bennet threw his napkin down on the table. "His former Captain lost a rather contentious hand of cards to him and the entire situation disintegrated after that. He was transferred to my ship with a reputation as a troublemaker. But I never saw that in him. I owe that man my life and know him very differently from his reputation. I am sure you have seen it yourself, Colonel." Bennet turned to Fitzwilliam.

Fitzwilliam leaned his elbows on the table. "I admit to having known men who did not deserve the reputation they carried, but—"

"So you understand." Wickham rubbed his eyes. "You are very kind."

"I am willing to take Darcy at his word and give you a fair go. Tomorrow we will go out to the estate and you can show me your merits. What say you of that?"

Wickham swallowed hard and blinked several times. "Thank you very much, sir. I only hope I might prove myself equal to my friend's confidence in my worth."

Bennet rose and extended his hand. "I expect you will."

Wickham shook his hand hard.

Just after sunrise Bennet, Wickham and Piper stood just outside the main barns waiting for their horses. A young man appeared leading three unsaddled steeds.

"I say, it seems something is missing here. Darcy's staff is becoming sloppy;" Wickham snatched the reins from the groom. His narrow eyes bore into the young groom until he shrank back and looked away.

"Dontcha be so quick to judge the master." Piper snapped. He took the reins of the remaining two geldings and patted the groom's back. Leaning in close, he whispered something to the boy and sent him to the barn.

Bennet cleared his throat and crossed his arms. "It was on my instruction, Mr. Wickham." He stroked his horse's neck. "I wish to see how you saddle your mount."

"Excuse me?" Wickham pulled back and jerked his head.

"You heard 'im." Piper stepped very close to Wickham, a low rumbling in his throat.

Wickham edged back. "I am merely confused as to what this has to do with plans for today. I was under the impression you needed a steward, not a groom." He laughed, but the sound had the taste of cheap wine, watered down.

Bennet ran his tongue along the roof of his mouth and smacked his lips. "You are correct, I am seeking a steward." He turned his back on Wickham to take a saddle from the returning groom and place it on the horse. He did not look back at Wickham but busied himself in fastening it.

The groom returned with two more saddles. Piper took one and readied him mount. Wickham stood back and allowed the groom to put the saddle on his horse but shouldered him aside to fasten the straps all the while muttering something undistinguishable under his breath.

Bennet stood back and watched him fumble with the tack. He shared an aggrieved look with Piper. "Are you ready?" He tapped his foot into the soft dirt, annoyed that the sound did not carry. A man, any man hired or not, should be competent in all the skills required to take care of business, whether or not a servant might be had to accomplish them.

"One cannot be too careful about one's mount." Wickham swung himself up into his saddle.

"Too true," Bennet muttered, trying to force his voice into something less critical than he felt.

Bennet and Piper mounted and urged the horses into motion.

As they rode, Wickham regaled them with tales of the country side. Each hill and grove and trail had its characters and drama. Volumes could have been filled with the stories Wickham wove. More interesting still, Bennet found himself drawn to listen to the young man, who was an accomplished storyteller.

Bennet glanced at Wickham. "You have a remarkable memory for people and events, Mr. Wickham."

"Thank you, sir. I am blessed with strong memory for such things. When I close my eyes, I can see it all as though no time has passed." Wickham shrugged. "I have always been this way. I believe I have never forgotten a conversation I have had. Used to drive poor Darcy to the edge of madness with my recollection of details." He chuckled.

"I 'spect that was of great assistance to studying the law and like." Piper urged his horse closer to Wickham's.

He started at Piper. "It was. Examinations came easily for me, much to the chagrin of my comrades. I am greatly blessed."

Bennet stopped his horse and pointed to untended fields to his right and left. "So you know the history of all these fields?"

"Some of them, but if you have any records from the previous steward, I can learn them in a thrice."

Bennet nodded. "As you can see, these fields are as yet unplanted, despite what I was assured by the solicitor. What would you suggest to make the most out of this land this year?" The solicitors duplicity came as no surprise to Bennet and was not enough to turn him off his purchase. It was bloody inconvenient though and added one more complication to his plans.

"I see clover, ryegrass, a few turnips—it is quite a mess there. If you can hire several men and persuade Darcy to loan—or rent—you his seed drill, you may just have time to plow it all under and drill some wheat, then get the fields on a proper Norfolk four course system." Wickham shaded his eyes and peered over the fields.

"What would you plant next year?"

"Turnips without a doubt. That will allow you to manage the weeds and perhaps the number of animals you can overwinter."

"Sheep or cattle?"

"Sheep to start. They are a cheaper investment and easier to manage for now. Add the cattle in slowly. I imagine there are a few in the dairy barn. You will have new calves next spring and you can cut your teeth on cattle raising then."

Bennet glanced back at Piper who grunted. At least Wickham did know something about managing the land. "Now, I have a tenant farm I wish to hear you comment upon. This way." He steered his mount around to a small trail on the left.

From the corner of his eye, Bennet studied Wickham. The man was not a horseman by any means. He seat was awkward and his rapport with the horse was anything but easy. He was accustomed to being driven, or did he drive himself—no, not likely. His hands were too unblemished for that. Was it a flaw of character or training? That was the more important issue. Despite Darcy's assurances, the lack of reference from his previous employer troubled Bennet. He had no reason to question Darcy's recommendation and yet he was still not entirely easy.

The arrived at the empty farmhouse. The roof sagged like the back of a broken down mare. Shutter hung at precarious angles. Cobblestones in the front path turned up on edge whilst the door did not quite shut. Bennet sighed. There was a reason Alston's price was so appealing. With or without Wickham, this was going to be a very busy year.

Bennet traded glances with Piper.

Piper rolled his eyes. Poor man, he was a sailor at heart. He hated leaving the Navy, but his injuries were too much for him to stay. Adjusting to life on the land again was proving difficult. But he was a sturdy one, Piper would succeed.

"So, Mr. Wickham, this tenant farm extends from the far hill to the creek. You see the house before you. What do you suggest?" Bennet said.

Wickham chuckled. "You are getting a free day's labor form me and making the most of it, are you not? I hope you do not intend to make a habit of it."

Piper growled and sidled his horse in close to Wickham's. "Do you mean to say the master is taking advantage of you—that he is not able to make such decisions, that your qualifications do not need to be tested and approved?"

Wickham blinked several times, but held his ground. He was either a fool, unable to understand the threat Piper cold present, or he was overconfident in his own abilities or worse still, accustomed to dealing with men like Piper. None of these options pleased Bennet.

"Have you no sense of humor, friend? I am merely trying to relieve the heaviness of the circumstances we see before us." Wickham looked over his shoulder at Bennet. "For this is indeed troublesome."

"I agree." Bennet nodded. He guided his horse nearer to Piper and Wickham. If Wickham did not mind his manners, Bennet would have to keep Piper away from him.

"The house needs repair and the fields need planting. There is still a little time to get profitable use of this land, depending on the conditions of the fields. I need to see those before I can make any recommendation." Wickham rode off toward the fields.

He was trying to get away from Piper. That showed good sense, at least. Bennet followed with Piper trailing them both.

The fields bloomed with overgrown clover, probably two years' worth of growth. Some peas wound around the fence and in one corner beans poked through the clover.

Wickham stopped at the fence. "As I see it sir, the best you can do with this field is turn it over to the sheep this year, then next start back with wheat or barley. The house will be hard to rent in the state it is right now. I imagine though, you are not anxious to incur the expense of fixing."

"It does not take a great imagination to come to that conclusion," Piper mumbled under his breath, crossing his arms over his waist.

"I know two brothers, one of whom is engaged to be married. Offer them the farm on very easy terms, with the understanding that the garden and house must be improved to your specification and the fences and fields tended to prepare them for panting next year. Give them charge of the flock that grazes here as well. Provide them material to accomplish the repairs. I know they are skilled enough to do so. Then if you are satisfied with the results this year, allow them to take the farm next year so that the elder brother may marry." Wickham cocked his head and smiled.

"You can provide reference of some kind for these brothers?" Bennet stroked his chin.

"Indeed I can sir." Wickham's right eye twitched.

Bennet stroked his chin. "Very good. Now to the barns."

The party did not leave Alston until well into the afternoon. Wickham broke from them at the fork in the road claiming business in Lambton. Bennet and Piper rode on to Pemberley.

"So what do you think Piper?" Bennet mopped his brow with his sleeve.

Piper shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you."

"Balderdash! I have never known you to be without an opinion and I will not accept such an excuse now. Out with it."

Piper snorted. "He seems neither here nor there. I cannot say I would trust him, but I cannot say I would not. He is hiding things no doubt, that."

"What man has not something to hide?" Bennet raked sweating hair from his eyes. "The question is what does he conceal?"

"He has not the fortitude of a violent man. The look in his eye—he would run sooner than fight."

"So you would not sail with him."

"Never, but you ain't looking for a sailor neither, sir." Piper's lips folded into a peculiar half frown half smile.

"You would trust him around Jane and Elizabeth?"

Piper barked out a coarse laugh. "Nay. I do not trust any man where beauty and fortune occupy the same space." Piper coked what was left of his eyebrow. "But he has not the spleen to do them any real harm."

"On that we both agree."

"You thinking of giving him a chance, sir?"

Bennet pursed his lips. "I am. What is your opinion?"

"He is no sure thing, but I will stand with you sir and keep watch as needs be."

"Very well then." Bennet flicked his reins. "I will break the news to Lizzy."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The clack of the boys' wooden swords rang out through the grove. All four of them laughed and shouted with the freedom of childhood. Elizabeth stood at the far corner, watching them from the corner of her eye. Jane sat with them, supervising their play. The temptation to join in with them was too great if she stayed. She did not want to face Darcy's dark looks again if she was caught.

She rubbed the back of her neck and looked up into the leafy canopy. Pemberley was beautiful and no staff could have done more to make them feel at home. Mrs. Reynolds lavished attention on all of them at every turn, constantly seeking their comfort. She had found out their favorite dishes from Mrs. Hill and they kept showing up on the dinner table. Elizabeth's favorite flowers show up on her dressing table every morning. She still could not figure out how they earned such favor, but it had been a welcome relief from the sense of being an awkward guest.

Darcy's gloomy stares and judgmental gazes made her long for the privacy of their own home once again. She groaned softly and rubbed her temples. Though she would miss Lady Catherine, Miss Darcy and even Colonel Fitzwilliam, it would be worth it to get away from the constant worry Darcy induced. It would not be long now. She and Hill hired the last of the household staff just this morning and those hired earlier had already started work on the house. Soon.

She continued along the perimeter of the grove. Francis and Philip would miss their playmates desperately. That could not be helped. She expected they would be hosting the young Darcy's often enough. As long it was one of their Aunts who brought them, those would be pleasant visits indeed. What father brought his children visiting? No, that would not be a problem.

A horse approach and stopped not far behind her. She did not bother to look. The boys did not alert, the rider was familiar. A grunt and shuffling dismount-those were Papa's trademarks.

"Good afternoon, Papa," she said, still not turning to him.

"I hear you had a productive morning." He lumbered toward her.

His knee must be paining his fiercely. Too many hours horseback did that to him. "We did. The last of the household staff is in place. Mrs. Hill will move into the house tomorrow and the staff with her. We should be able to move in less than a fortnight." She waited for him to reach her and continued her circuit around the grove. He needed to walk out the stiffness lest he suffer for it tomorrow. If she suggested it, he would only argue. Best not allow him to contest the point.

"Capitol! I should like to sleep in my own bed again." He clapped his hand to his back and rubbed fiercely.

"You do not intend to have Piper string a hammock in your room?" She forced back the smile that fought to blossom forth.

"I might at that." He chuckled and paused to lean against a tree. "As a matter of fact, we could take that small room in the attic, the one too small for servants' quarters, and string up several for the boys."

"I would caution you against that that if you are going to try to make a gentleman of Francis rather than a sailor."

He leaned down and massaged his knee. "You may have a point."

She waited for him to stop and pull himself upright and set off again.

He followed, his gait decidedly awkward. "I hired Wickham today to be steward for Alston."

Her jaw jutted forward and she caught her upper lip in her teeth. A sigh escaped her control. She quickened her pace.

Papa snorted and hurried to catch up. "Out with it, Lizzy."

She looked away, not slackening her pace. "You have hired him, what is there for me to say?"

"You do not approve."

"You do not need my approval. "

"I should like to have it nonetheless." He grimaced and stumbled.

Immediately she was at his side, supporting his arm. "I am sorry Papa. I cannot lie to you. You knew my feelings about him before you interviewed with him and they have not changed now."

Papa took her arm and they rounded the corner.

"How did he manage to impress you this morning?" Her tone was far sharper than she hoped, but she had not crossed the line to disrespect.

"I'll grant you his horsemanship leaves much to be desired." He chuckled and paused to rub his leg again. "But he does know this area. He is familiar with the history of the fields and roads and even many of the tenants. He had sound recommendations for the estate, better than I expected."

She grumbled something neither agreement nor dissent.

"If it is any consolation, Piper is not certain of him either."

"And yet you would choose to ignore both of us." She turned to face him and crossed her arms over her chest.

He puffed a heavy breath through his lips. "I am not ignoring either one of you."

"I beg to differ, that is precisely what you are doing." Her foot beat a rapid tattoo on the soft ground.

He grumbled deep in his throat. "I am not."

"How exactly do you see that?"

Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam broke through the trees, engrossed in their own conversation. They stopped short and stared.

"Good day, Admiral, Miss Bennet." Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled and bowed.

"Good day to you both." Papa nodded.

"Was your time with Wickham profitable this morning?" Mr. Darcy asked. His eyes lingered on Elizabeth.

She looked away. Burning heat crept into her cheeks.

"Indeed it was. He demonstrated quite a thorough understanding of the land. I was as impressed as you said I would be."

Mr. Darcy's brows rose. "So he will be—"

"I have offered him the position of Alston's steward."

"Excellent." Mr. Darcy smiled and nodded at his cousin. "I am very pleased to hear it."

"It is good someone is." Papa muttered and frowned at Elizabeth.

Her face burned and her breath caught in her throat. "Excuse me." She tuned on her heel and strode away briskly. How could he? What was he thinking? It was not like Papa to be so thoughtless. Why should he punish her for disagreeing with him? Her eyes felt suddenly full of sand. She blinked furiously. Her chest tightened. If she drew a deep breath now she would certainly cry.

Heavy footfalls pounded after her. She picked up her pace. She wanted no company now, most especially not his.

"Miss Bennet, please, wait," Darcy called.

Against her will, her feet stopped. How could they betray her now? What could he possibly say that she might want to hear?

He was at her side a moment later. "Thank you."

"As you wish." She kept her face away and returned to her previous brisk pace.

He matched her stride for stride. "I am sorry, I fear my cousin and I interfered in a private conversation."

"There is nothing to be done for it now." Each word tore at her throat on its way out.

"I take it you do not approve of his choice of Mr. Wickham."

"Mr. Wickham is your friend, sir. I can hardly answer your question without risking offense to you. After all the gracious hospitality you have shown us, it would be most ungrateful of me to do so."

He pulled slightly ahead of her. "You do not have to concern yourself with offending me."

"Excuse me?" Her voice climbed an octave.

"Wickham is not to your liking. I understand."

She stopped short and stared at him.

"Have spots suddenly broken out on my face?" His eyebrow rose archly, the corner of his lips twitched.

She giggled. "No sir, they have not. However it is quite possible that they will at any moment now."

He smiled. "When they do, you will have to tell me, for I am certain it will be a most unnatural color."

Oh, that smile. She had never seen it before. Perhaps that was a good thing. "What color would you consider to be natural under these circumstances?"

"Puce."

She covered her mouth to contain a laugh.

He smiled again.

Her knees melted just enough to convince her not to walk again just now.

"I understand that Wickham does incite that reaction in some. You are not the first he inadvertently offended." He glanced down just long enough for her to recover from his last smile.

There, that was better, now she had her bearings again. "Indeed."

"You sound skeptical."

She cocked her head. "Not skeptical, but surprised."

No! He smiled again. Her heart raced faster than her feet had been. She had to get him to stop doing that somehow lest she lose her ability to reason.

"I have known Wickham for so long I do not see the offense in him. It would seem I understand what he means to say rather than what he has actually said. He has the unlucky habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Even my dear sister has had her share of displeasure with him."

Her eyes widened. "I did notice he seemed to upset her."

"Unfortunately they have a longstanding awkwardness between them. I believe he only means to tease as an older brother might. But she is of a sensitive disposition and takes his words to heart. I have tried to explain it to him, but he is of such high spirits, I do not think he truly understands her more delicate nature. I do know he means no harm."

"How do you know that sir?" She rolled her eyes and frowned.

His smile faded.

The relief she expected at its departure did not materialize. Instead she wished for its return. Fickle, fickle girl!

"He has no reason to wish to harm my sister just as I do not. He has grown up as an elder brother to her."

She folded her arms over her chest. "And that is the basis of your understanding of his character? Forgive me sir, but I have seen many a sibling rivalry that has had one wish ill upon another. I do not wish to offend, but I see a littleness in him that does nothing to recommend him to me."

He sighed "I am at loath to admit it, but I do understand what you see in him."

"I confess my surprise at hearing you say that. Yet you still defend him?"

"I do." He offered her his arm.

Before she could think about it, she had slipped her hand in the crook of his arm. He covered her fingertips with his. They were warm and strong. She looked away to hide the smile she could not suppress.

"Will you tell me why you so staunchly defend him?" The sharp edge of her voice softened.

"I do not wish to be critical of my father, but sometimes I wonder if his excessive kindness was in fact a curse. He allowed Wickham to grow up like a brother to me, constantly surrounded by a lifestyle he could not hope to when he became an adult. The best Wickham could aspire to would be a modest home and a gentlemanly occupation as a lawyer or cleric or physician. He could never have a home like Pemberley, although he would always be welcome here, it is not the same."

Elizabeth nodded. They left the woods. The afternoon sun tickled her cheek with a warm caress. She squinted slightly until the brightness was hidden by Pemberley's imposing silhouette. How difficult it would be to grow up in such a place knowing it was more than you would ever have again.

"Through the years I have detected a subtle bitterness in Wickam that you no doubt have noted as well. But who could blame him?" He shrugged. "In addition, he has suffered several spells of bad luck, most recently his falling out with Mr. Locke."

"Mr. Wickham intimated that Mr. Locke's son was jealous of him. Given what you have just said though, what would be the basis of such jealousy?"

"I have seen that happen in the past. Wickham is most charismatic and makes friends easily. Keeping them can be another story though. The favor he receives from some often alienates him from others."

The walked on several more steps, gravel crunching underfoot. She enjoyed the feeling of her arm in his though she hated to admit it even to herself. "And you feel responsible for his misfortune?"

"No, but I do wish to see him in an agreeable situation so that he can establish himself as his father always wished he would do."

"Would you hire him as steward for Pemberley?"

Mr. Darcy paused a moment and looked up at a passing bird. "If I though working for me would not embitter him further, yes I would. But I fear it would be too much to ask of him."

"I can see that."

"I hope I have alleviated some of you concerns."

She felt his eyes on her. Drawing on her reserves of courage, she turned to meet his eyes. She started and had to suppress the instinct to jump. The judgmental gaze she expected was not there. His dark eyes glittered with warmth and something she could not name but made her insides wobble like calves foot jelly.

It took far too long for her to gather her thoughts. Surely she sounded like a weak-minded fool. "Some of them sir. I will try to keep what you have said in mind. But you will forgive me if I suspend judgment on your friend until he proves himself to me." Did her voice sound as quivery in his ears as it did in hers?

"That is all I ask, Miss Bennet." He pressed her hand warmly and guided her into the house.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Fitzwilliam hung back. Darcy could talk with the admiral and Miss Elizabeth on his own. For once Miss Bennet was not in the company of his aunt or cousin. The boys were occupied with one another. Bless those wooden swords. Such an opportunity should not be overlooked.

He straightened his coat and brushed dust from his sleeves. A few brisk steps brought him to the fallen long Miss Bennet used as a bench. "Good day, Miss Bennet." He bowed.

She looked up from her writing and smiled. "Good day."

A beam of sunlight poured through a break in the trees. It glimmered off her hair, engulfing her in a golden halo. How rare a beauty sat before him. Perhaps he was a fool. With her connections and fortune why would she receive him? At least he would have the satisfaction of knowing for certain. The possibility of what might have been would not torment his nights. He smiled back. "May I join you?"

"Certainly." She turned back to her writing.

He dropped to the ground near her. "My nephews have enjoyed your brothers' company immensely."

"They have indeed been excellent playmates." Miss Bennet did not look up from her journal.

"They have never had playmates who could match their energy before."

Her pencil scratched the paper faster.

"It was good of your father to give them those swords, or at least is seems so now. I might feel differently after you take your leave though."

She turned the page and her pencil scratched again. "I expect you are correct. I would suggest that you make it clear to them they are forbidden from using them in the house."

He snickered. Why would she not look at him? Her voice lacked any flirtatious quality. Her face, her posture had no hint of coyness. She was entirely indifferent to his presence. He swallowed back a sigh. Still, timidity was not in his nature. Perhaps a different tack was required. "Do you ever spar with the boys?"

Success at last, she turned her face to him. "No that is Elizabeth's purview alone, though I doubt she will do so again anytime son given your cousins' disapproval. Oh!" Her eyes narrowed and jaw tightened. "Disagreeable man! He has done it again."

He followed her gaze. Miss Elizabeth turned on her heel and stalked away. Darcy stared after her until she disappeared into the trees then hurried after her. Admiral Bennet squeezed his eyes shut, pressed his temples and shuffled to his horse. He struggled into the saddle and trailed after them.

"Your cousin has an astounding ability to discompose my sister." Jane snapped the journal shut.

"No one has ever accused him of being gifted with a glib nature."

"I would say so. There is no need for him to judge her so harshly. If he cannot be kind, he should simply leave her alone." She wrapped her arms around her knees, forehead creased in a lovely scowl.

"Forgive me, Miss Bennet, but you misunderstand my cousin entirely."

She stared deep into Fitzwilliam's eyes. "I think not. His dark stares and curt words make his opinions quite clear."

Deep blue and penetrating, her eyes were compelling, inviting, arresting—

"I pray you will forgive me saying so, but it is a wonder your cousin ever married if this is any sample of the way he treats the fairer sex."

Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes. Miss Bennet was stunning in her righteous indignation. So much so, he almost hesitated to quell it, but his sense of justice insisted. "I do not blame you for thinking as you do. You are not the first to cast my cousin in such a dim light. He does himself few favors with his seriousness and reserve, but you must believe me when I tell you, you have misjudged him entirely."

"How might that be?" She crossed her arms and looked at him with the same expression the governess used on his nephews.

Laughing would not help his cause. He held his breath until the urge passed. "One might assume your sister to be, as your father says, 'a sturdy girl' little in need of the protections you seem to lavish upon her."

"That would be because they do not know her. She has been ill-used by the _Ton_ and hurt for all her efforts at civility."

"Precisely. My cousin, like your sister, is not easy to know." He leaned back on his hands and peered into the leafy canopy. How much should he share? Darcy valued his privacy above almost everything else, at times more than he should. "I know you will not share your sister's secrets, nor should you. In the same way I cannot breech Darcy's confidence. But I can assure you, his opinion of your sister is quite the opposite of what you think. He holds her in high regard despite his unfortunate tendency to say precisely the wrong thing."

"I am surprised."

"Now please do not think I have said this to raise expectations—"

Miss Bennet snorted and rose, flipping her skirts. Dust and leaves scattered in their wake.

Fitzwilliam clambered to his feet and grimaced. "I have just played Darcy's role, I fear. I had no wish to offend you."

Her posture softened and she turned toward him.

"I mean not offense to you sister. Only that…the married state was not a pleasant one for my cousin. It was tolerable I suppose, but neither he nor Anne was entirely content. They were not like minded and shared little in common. I admire the way they made the best of it and created a peaceful environment for their sons. He grieved her death to be sure. But it left him with little desire to try again."

"I see." Miss Bennet blinked several times and looked aside. "Please forgive me. You are correct. I have misjudged him."

Fitzwilliam chuckled and stepped nearer. "Do not worry. He brings it on himself. You are hardly the first to do so."

"Still." She smiled through her eyes still frowned. "I think him very like my sister now. She has tired of the marriage market herself and does not want anyone raising his hopes on her."

Fitzwilliam offered her his arm. They traced the perimeter of the grove.

There would never be another opportunity like the present. He drew a deep breath to fortify his courage. "What of you, Miss Bennet. Have you the same opinions as your sister?" He winced. Somehow, those words had sounded so much better in his mind. Just as well, though, better have an answer now than make a fool of himself later. Still, his heart barely beat and his mouth dried up.

"I…I have not had her experiences…so I do not have entirely the same opinions."

He almost stumbled in the light-headedness that followed the sudden return of his heartbeat.

"Do not mistake me. I laud her caution to be sue. But I am not convinced of the certain evils of a match, particularly where there is mutual friendship and even affection among the parties."

Walking and not grinning like a simpleton required all the strength and concentration he could muster.

"And what you your opinions, sir?"

Worlds tangled in the cotton wool that filled his mouth. He tongue, surely three times its normal size and bone dry, protested speech. Somehow he prevailed. "Having never been married myself, I do not share his prejudices. I would prefer to form my own judgments."

She smiled at him.

He caught his foot on a tree root and nearly fell but for the steadiness of her arm in his. It mattered not. Laughter burst forth and she joined in. In the background the boys laughed too, hopefully at their own antics, and all was right with the world.

The next morning, Darcy sat behind his desk, staring at the piles of paper before him. One in particular troubled him. His last correspondence from Mr. Locke, his solicitor in London, stared back at him, taunting. The longer he looked at it, the tighter the knot in his stomach grew.

He had done so much to help Locke establish his practice, the letters of reference, the referrals. That Locke should repay him by dismissing Wickham was intolerable. How was it that Wickham should always find himself at the hand of jealous men? This time had to be different. He would not sit by passively this time. The question remained what should he do? Was a letter of reprimand and demand Wickham be reinstated enough, or should he find another solicitor and suggest his friends do the same? He chewed his knuckled and rearranged his papers one more time.

A distinct knock sounded at the door, Wickham's.

"Come."

Wickham sauntered into the room. "Good morning, old chap. You look exceedingly sour for so early in the day, even for you."

Darcy huffed and pointed to a chair.

Wickham settled himself into the plush leather chair and leaned back, crossing his ankles. "I will soon miss your fine furniture."

"You are not pleased with your situation at Alston with the Bennets?" Darcy slid Locke's letter under several others.

"Well, Alston is not Pemberley." Wickham shrugged. "But do not think me ungrateful. It will be an excellent opportunity. I am glad to be away from Locke and his ill temper. I think the Admiral's disposition will suit me well."

"It is an excellent opportunity on very generous terms. If you make the most of it, you will find yourself most comfortable. You would even be able to support a wife and family." Darcy braced his elbows on the desk and laced his hands.

"A wife? I am far from considering that. Perhaps when I have determined this is the right situation—"

"What is there to determine? Admiral Bennet is an excellent man, Alston is a marvelous estate with great potential, and the terms of your employ are exceeding even my expectations." Darcy grated his teeth. No wonder Miss Elizabeth found Wickham so disagreeable. There were moments he was inclined to agree.

"Forgive me." Wickham bowed his head. "After my experiences with Locke, I am reluctant to expect too much from any man. You are right. I am far too pessimistic about Bennet. I am sure you are correct in your estimation of him."

Darcy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know I recommended you to Locke. He has surprised me most disturbingly. I would never have expected him to use you so ill. I mean to take him to task for that, you know."

Wickham's eyes widened. His face paled and he sat very upright. "No, you do not need to do that."

"I disagree. I have sat by and watched this happen too many times. I will not do so again. It is time someone championed your cause."

"I beseech you. Do not lower yourself to get involved in my affairs. I could not forgive myself if you were to be colored with the same brush that I have been. It has been my only consolation through all my trials that they have not touched you or your family."

"Nonsense." Darcy banged the desk with his fist. "You have been most forgiving and patient. I do not understand why you have had to suffer so much, but this time I will right the wrong done against you."

Wickham jumped to his feet and parked his hands on the desk. He leaned down into Darcy's face. "I beg you do not."

Darcy pressed toward him. "Why? Give me a good reason why I should stand by and watch you mistreated once again."

Wickham blinked and swallowed hard. He straightened and turned aside, eyes on the window. "Because I have little left to me but my pride. Do not strip that from me in this way. Let the matter rest and me walk away with my dignity."

Darcy fell back into his seat. "I see." The knot in his belly grew as Wickham's shoulders sagged.

He turned back to face Darcy. "Thank you. You will excuse me, I must attend my new employer." He bowed and left.

The door thumped and bounced behind him. Darcy stared at it until his eyes lost focus.

Blast it all! He slammed the desk. The scattered papers jumped. This latest insult was too much. He would not stand for it. He pulled out his pen knife and repaired his pen. His letter to Locke would require a sharp pen.


	13. Chapter 13

**Counting down the days to the release of "All the Appearance of Goodness"...28 and counting. Release date 3-19-13**

**Chapter 13**

Try as he might, the remainder of Darcy's week was spent in maddening distraction. Piles of work grew around him, taunting and overwhelming. He would master this.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. If it was not the boys whose high spirits seemed even higher, it was a cow-eyed Fitzwilliam following Miss Bennet. Lady Catherine walked about in a constant dither, fussing about some aspect of the Bennet's move. Wickham was perpetually underfoot, seeking confirmation on one point of estate management or another. The one person he would gladly have seen more of, was the one who went into hiding.

Though he made a special effort to seek her out, only at dinner, in the company of the entire household, did Miss Elizabeth appear. How many times had he reviewed his last conversation with her? Her smile convinced him he had not offended her. He could not explain her current avoidance. _Blast it all._

He dropped his head into his hands and scoured his face. Here he was again, at his desk, thinking of her. Piles of work surrounded him and all he could contemplate was her.

Anne had never occupied his thought so. He had always known her feeling toward him. His marriage to her was a forgone conclusion, so he never worried what her feelings toward him were. That was far easier than this turmoil.

_Gah_! He slapped a stack of papers. He was done with marriage and all fanciful notions of romance and love. Best to master it all now. Besides, soon enough she would be out of his house and her lingering presence would no longer plague him.

He puffed a sharp breath through his cheeks. Little chance there was of that. The boys would demand regular interactions between Pemberley and Alston and he would be faced with her then. He groaned. She had bewitched him and distance alone would not break the spell. He tore open the top most letter on the pile.

The study door swung open and Lady Catherine fluttered in.

Darcy threw the letter aside and raked his hair. He could not have read the letter in his current state of mind, so her distraction was not actually unwelcome, but he dared not let her know that. "What may I do for you, Aunt?"

She stopped short and peered at him through narrow eyes. "Are you well, Darcy?" She cocked her head and stepped closer. "You look an absolute fright."

He squeezed his temples. "I have a great deal of work that I must attend. Tell me what I may do for you, so I might return to it."

"Your desk is a mess. What has affected you so?" The corner of her lips turned up ever so slightly.

No, she was not going to intrude on this matter. She had played matchmaker once in his life and that was entirely enough. He muttered clipped syllables under his breath. "I ask you again, what brought you to my study?"

"Ah, yes, well, you know tomorrow will be the Bennets' last day here with us." She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out her fan.

"I am very well acquainted with the fact. The boys have been mourned mourning the event for well-nigh a week. I have lost count of the number of times I have had to explain why the Bennets will not continue living at Pemberley."

"They will miss those Bennet boys." Her eyes crinkled "I think I shall as well. They are dear sweet children. I do so love-"

"You did not come to remind me of events in the household." He cradled his forehead in his hand.

"No, no, I want to host a party on their behalf."

His jaw dropped and he blinked several times. "A what, madam?"

"A dinner party. We shall introduce them to the other families of standing in the area,; otherwise, it may take them months to meet everyone." She snapped her fan open and fluttered it. "It is such a good idea, is it not?"

"Most certainly not."

The fan stopped mid-flutter.

He leaned back in his chair and laced his hands in front of his chest. "I do not care to entertain. I never have."

"But when Anne—"

"I humored Anne when she desired to play hostess, but those days are long since passed. We have hosted the Bennets for these weeks;, I would say we have done quite enough in the way of hospitality toward them."

Lady Catherine dropped her fan. It clattered on the desk. She planted her hands on the desk and stared, eyes bulging.

He kept his eyes down …, on the papers on his desk …, the pen knife to the right …, the stick of sealing wax half hidden by the letter …, anywhere but Lady Catherine. He did not need to meet her gaze to know the expression she wore. It was the same one Anne worse wore when she was determined to have her way. She had not worn it often, but it did not bode well for him when she had. Anne had learned it at her mother's knee.

The impasse wore on. Lady Catherine did not move—did not even breathe. Her eyes burned the top of his head. Sweat beaded along his upper lip and trickled down along the edge of his chin. It fell with a resounding splash on the letter he pretended to read. A low rumble started in his belly, increased in his throat and erupted in a snarling huff. He lifted his eyes. There was that look. Why did he even try?

"When?" he snapped.

"A week? Ten days from tomorrow? Which do you prefer?" She straightened and took up her fan. At least she had the grace not to gloat.

"I care not. Simply inform me of the plans—"

"You will not make plans to be away. It is imperative you be here as host."

He clasped his hands on his desk and glowered. "Then you will include Wickham in your invitation."

The fan fluttered faster. "Why do you favor him so? I am not sure he is—"

He growled, forehead creasing so tightly his head ached.

She snapped the fan closed. "As you wish. He will receive an invitation as well, though I doubt he will come. He will not likely feel comfortable in the company we will have."

He nodded, face relaxing. "It is enough that he is invited."

They locked eyes a moment longer. The barest of smiles bloomed on her face and she left with a nod.

Scene 20: Philip and Darcy

Jane and Elizabeth sat together in the morning room, shoulder to shoulder, pouring poring over their lists. They started before dawn, when the room was lit only by the barest of the sun's rays. Since then, the room had filled with light and warmth and a plate of Mrs. Reynolds' finest scones and coffee.

"How many times have we done this?" Jane pressed her head to Elizabeth's shoulder.

"Too many." Elizabeth laid her cheek on top of Jane's head. "But I suppose it is not so bad as it used to be. Lady Ellen had a penchant for making things run smoothly." She tapped her pencil on the nearest list. "Are you well, Jane? You feel flushed."

"I suppose I am just tired. You know I cannot sleep well the day before we change residences. Lists and details—"

"And imaginary disasters—"

"Yes, those too;, they flood my mind and Morpheus is kept at bay."

Elizabeth pulled back and pressed her hand to Jane's forehead. "You are warm."

Jane leaned back and straightened in her chair. "Oh, do not fuss so. I am fine."

Heavy footsteps approached behind them.

"Good day ladies." Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled. He caught Elizabeth's eyes and his smiled faded and brows lifted, creasing his forehead.

"I am well, sir." Jane smiled her angelic smile.

Colonel Fitzwilliam was lost, utterly lost. Elizabeth fought to keep her smile to herself. The colonel was a good man and he showed Jane all the right and proper attentions. He was wonderful with the boys. He respected and was in turn respected by Papa. His fortune was probably small, but Jane had enough to support them comfortably, even to purchase a smallish estate. She could afford to ignore in fortune in favor of something no one could purchase -, character. Fitzwilliam might do very well indeed.

"I am afraid my sister is fatigued, sir. But she is far too stubborn to rest."

"I am fine and we have a great deal of work yet to do." Jane cocked her head, hand perched on her hips.

Elizabeth rose and gestured toward Jane. "If you would take her to the drawing room and read to her, she would be forced to rest and I would be most grateful."

Jane's jaw dropped and her face flushed bright.

Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned at Elizabeth and offered Jane his arm. "Happy to be of assistance, ladies."

Jane huffed, but took his arm and they left.

Even a moon-eyed chap like Fitzwilliam could use a bit of assistance now and again. And Jane did need to rest. Despite all the protestations otherwise, Jane's healthy was still fragile. Perhaps not as fragile as it once was, but still, she needed to be careful.

Elizabeth returned to her seat and pulled Jane's lists closer. She ticked off several points. Those could wait until after they were settled. She circled two items. These had to be attended to—

"Miss Elizabeth!" Miss Wexley rushed in and came to a skidding halt beside Elizabeth, panting. Her apron was smudged with dirt and torn. Her hair fell from its pins in disarray.

Elizabeth's voice caught in her throat. "What is wrong?"

"It is Philip, ma'am—"

Elizabeth's cheeks burned cold. "Is he ill? Do we need the doctor?"

"No…I do not know…I cannot find him. If it were Francis, I would not trouble you, but Philip—I have been through all the rooms near the nursery and I cannot find him. I have searched the attics and the servant's servants' quarters."

Elizabeth jumped up, nearly knocking the chair over. "Yes, yes, you are correct. I will start searching immediately."

The governess wrung her hands in her torn apron. "Should I tell the admiral?"

"He is away from the house…but Piper is here. Find him and …yes, Mrs. Reynolds. If anyone knows where a young boy might hide, it will be her."

Miss Wexley curtsied unsteadily and dashed off.

Elizabeth's hands covered in cold prickles. She rubbed the back of her hands against her skirt. _Where to start?_ She dashed out into the corridor and looked about.

Loud steps rand rang in the corridor as she ran several steps one direction, stopped and hurried the opposite way. Several empty rooms later, she forced herself to stop. She was not hunting Francis, who regularly found ways to put himself in imminent danger.

Philip's disposition was not inclined not to danger, but to reflections. He hated chaos and upheaval and despised moving house. _What would he want right now?_ Quiet and the warmth of sunshine and a place the other children would not find him. That meant a room on the east face of the house with windows and books or fine breakable objects.

The gallery or the library;, the boys were not allowed in the former and avoided the later. She pounded up the stairs, heart thudding faster and louder than her feet. At the top, she clutched the railing and forced herself to pause. If Philip thought her angry, he might hide. Three deep breathes and she was ready to continue.

Slow, quiet steps brought her toward the gallery. She paused—_were those voices?_ She closed her eyes and turned her ear toward the doorway. If she strained, she made out a deep rumbling whisper and a smoother, higher pitched one.

She inched toward the door and peeked in. Philip stood, silhouetted in the window. Beside him, Darcy crouched on one knee, a hand on Philip's shoulder.

"It is difficult at times like these," Darcy said _sotto voce_.

"It is, sir." Philip clasped his hands behind his back. "Jane and Lizzy, especially, are wonderful—"

"But they are not her."

"No sire, they are not." Philip sniffled.

Darcy reached for his pocket. "There are bound to be those times when a boy—or a man—will miss his mother more than he wants to acknowledge to others."

"Yes, sir."

"So you must always carry one of these." Darcy pulled out a handkerchief with a flourish and pressed it into Philips's hand, "and know where to find a sunny window. I find claiming dust in ones' one's eyes a very sympathetic reason to claim for one's retreat."

Philip looked at Darcy, eyes shining. He clutched the handkerchief to his chest. "Thank you sir."

Darcy rose and patted Philips's back. "Carry on then. You are welcome to stay here until the dust had has left your eyes."

Elizabeth bit her lip and blinked hard, the lump in her throat painful. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Miss Elizabeth!" Darcy whispered suddenly in her face.

"Oh." Elizabeth jumped. "I am sorry. I was looking for Philip. Miss Wexley was in quite a state."

Darcy's brows flashed up. "No doubt." He glanced back into the gallery. "He is a good lad. I gave him to leave to remain—"

"Until the dust has left his eyes." The corner of Elizabeth's lips lifted.

"Ah, yes." Darcy tugged his collar.

"It was very kind of you. My brother's quiet nature has often been misunderstood. He—and I—will not forget your kindness to him. You may need to prepare yourself for a bit of hero worship from now on. He may even wish to discuss books with you."

Darcy blinked and smiled _that_ smile. Her face flushed, this time with heat.

"I shall look forward to it. His opinions may well be as fascinating as yours." He offered her is arm and walked her downstairs.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Elizabeth, Jane, Papa and Piper took their leave from Pemberley near dawn the next morning. Miss Wexley and the boys, it was decided, would stay behind another day for a last full day with their playmates and one less concern for those involved with moving. The allure of a new house to explore would doubtless require no less than three adults fully attending to their antics.

Papa stretched his legs and crossed his ankles. "Mrs. Hill has been on site now for long enough now. I cannot imagine there can be that much—"

Piper grunted. He shared a quick glance with Elizabeth and scowled at Papa.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and thumped the journal in her lap. "Since you insisted on taking every last stick of furniture that belonged to Mama or to Lady Ellen—"

Jane nodded. "And everything your mother willed you from her goods in Longbourn, too."

"I was not about to permit my brother's mistress to sully my mother's memory, or theirs."

The estate should have been Papa's according to the marriage settlements, or so his mother had told him. Elizabeth still did not understand what means Uncle Collins used, but it did not matter. The end result was their eviction from the estate Papa considered his own. Now wonder he was so testy this morning. "Papa, consider, you will not rest easily until every last piece of furniture, plate and china, every book portrait and bric-a-brac is inventoried and accounted for."

"Has not Hill—"

"You have never been satisfied until we see to the inventory ourselves. " Elizabeth opened her book. "See here—"

"I do not wish to see." He held up his hand.

Jane leaned forward. She pressed her elbow against Elizabeth's "Once the inventory is finished, you will wish to see to the arrangement of your rooms. Surely the placement of the furniture already there will not suit. You and Piper will take the better part of the day in rearrangements—"

Elizabeth nodded vigorously "Whilst Jane and I see to the arrangements of the nursery and school room, the—"

Papa threw his hands up. "Enough, enough. Lady Ellen never—"

"She never dealt with so much furniture following her about. It all stayed at Longbourn whilst we were abroad, if you recall." Elizabeth harrumphed and laced her hands atop her journal.

Jane sighed. "Moreover, she usually accomplished the process of moving whilst you were out to sea. You will simply have to exercise patience, Papa."

He snorted and grumbled.

Piper winked at Elizabeth, ducked his chin, closed his eyes and started to snore.

Elizabeth hid a snicker in her fist. Piper could drop off in one breath and be wide away the next. Papa said it was a useful skill in the Navy. It was even more useful in supervising the twins. Poor Miss Wexley probably would have quit her post by now had it not been for Piper's generous assistance.

The coach stopped and Piper jerked awake. He pushed open the door and jumped out. He handed Jane out and looked at Elizabeth. She shook her head and tipped it toward Papa. He nodded and shambled off.

Papa slid toward the door.

Elizabeth jumped to the seat beside him and wrapped her arm in his. "You are troubled."

He huffed. "There is much to do today as you so aptly reminded me." He pulled against her hold halfheartedly

"You have not done this before—Lady Ellen used to manage all our moves."

Papa grunted and looked away.

"We have never moved her or mama's things before." Elizabeth leaned forward to catch his eye.

His eyes narrowed and his jaw set. "He stole the estate from me with his legal trickery, but could not touch their things. I could not permit that conniving bilge-eating brother of mine to despoil either of their memories nor have the satisfaction of taking even more from me."

She patted his arm. "You miss them."

"Terribly," he whispered through clenched teeth.

"We all do, Papa." She pressed her head to his shoulder. "Lady Ellen would have rejoiced to see you at Alston, out of the influence of the Collinses."

He leaned his head on top of hers.

This was the side of Papa that few ever saw. "You must marry again, Papa, soon."

He jumped and pulled his arm from her grasp. "Have you taken leave of your senses?"

"Not at all. Some men are happy as bachelors. You are not. There is only one cure for that."

"You presume too much. Besides, we are far from good society here in the Peaks—"

"That is not true at all. Lady Catherine—"

He slapped the seat beside him. "Enough, Lizzy. This is most improper."

"What is improper about expressing my esteem for her? Lady Catherine is all you—"

"I will not have this conversation." He jumped out of the carriage and limped into the house.

In the Bard's words, the Admiral doth protest too much, methinks. She smiled to herself and followed him into the house.

The low roar of men's voices rumbled from below stairs, probably the kitchen. Wickham had arranged for a team of Alston's tenants to assemble that morning to assist their new master. There must have been eight men at least. Over their din, Piper's strong voice called out assignments. Papa burst out from the stairway.

Elizabeth dodged his hasty steps. "You look very pleased, Papa."

"I am quite satisfied. Mr. Wickham has arranged for sufficient assistance that we should have all the furniture unloaded by dinner." He rubbed his hands together.

She dropped her forehead into her hand and squeezed her temples. "Who is going to supervise these men?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just because they have strong backs does not mean they will assume the proper care with the furniture. You do not want it damaged do you?"

"You fuss entirely too much."

It took all her self-control not to stamp her foot. She clenched her fist until her nails cut into her palm. "And you forget that this is not the Navy. We have not a ship full of sailors trained at your hand and understanding the consequences of displeasing you."

"What are you implying? You believe these men, chosen particularly by my steward for this task, are too incompetent to move furniture?"

She held out her journal. "You have always been at sea when our things have arrived. There is a way these things must be done, an order the wagons must be unloaded."

He pinched his temples and groaned. "We just need this finished. I wish to be settled into my own home and be done with this distasteful business."

"Why do you not trust me in this, Papa? I am quite proficient in—"

"And my steward is not?"

"I dare say I have managed the transition of your household more than he." She took a step nearer and leaned close to his face. Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper. "I know your patience is worn threadbare over all this. I also know it will not last. If you progress through this like a runaway horse, you will pay for it for at least a fortnight as you discover one thing after another that was not done to your satisfaction. I have not forgotten how particular you are."

He drew in a deep breath. "I am not discussing this further, Lizzy."

Alas, he would pay for his own stubbornness and nothing she could do was going to change that. "Fine. Lend me Piper for just a moment. I need him to move your strong box into the office so I can transfer it to the one in the study. Jane and I, with Piper's help, can manage those three crates of books for your study and a few others things for that room. I will ensconce myself in the study and leave you to manage everything to your own satisfaction." She stepped around him and pelted down the narrow staircase.

Oh, he could be so maddening at times. The Navy spoilt him. He was far too accustomed to giving orders with little consideration to how they might be accomplished. To be sure, he would come to her in a fortnight or two, all humility and confession that she was right after all. But it would be a long fortnight in between. As much as she hated it, the only way to manage him in these times was to batten down the hatches and ride out the storm, then clean up the damage afterwards.

Papa needed a wife and the sooner the better.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Elizabeth settled into the study with several crates of books, two barrels of bric-a-brac that she anticipated would belong in the room, several trunks of naval paraphernalia and Papa's strong box. There was hardly any room left to walk. Best that Papa was occupied elsewhere; he had little tolerance for disarray.

At least the desk was to his liking and, with Piper's help earlier, in the proper position. The rest of the furniture still needed arrangement. She chuckled. He was so set in his ways that he would want the furniture arranged in this room exactly as it was in his study in Longbourn. He was difficult, but not impossible, to please. One just needed to know his ways and to be willing to accommodate to them as he would not change.

She sighed as she dragged a heavy chair across the room. A cloud of dust exploded in her wake. Piper had not yet had his way in this room. Hill rarely—no almost never—entered Papa's sanctum, so the cleaning fell to Piper. The man was fanatically clean. He alone could achieve Papa's exacting standards.

Lady Ellen welcomed Piper's presence even as she laughed at Papa, but allowed him his foibles. She loved him so much. For all Papa's eccentricities, he had married, twice, for love and treated his wives with the utmost of care and respect. No doubt that was part of why he was so difficult right now. He was desperately lonely.

She sat on the floor and leaned her cheek against the cool leather of the seat. Could Lady Catherine care for him as his previous wives had? Could he love her? She closed her eyes and pictured them laughing together at Pemberley, walking out with the boys, smiling at their antics. Yes, it was possible. Maybe he already did but was too distracted to realize it. If that was the case, then the best thing she could do was get their home ship-shape so he could focus on other, more important matters.

She pushed herself to her feet and manhandled the chair into place. She dusted her hands together and glanced around the room. The small table and side chairs belonged near the window. As soon as the chess board was liberated from its packing, it would find a home there. Once the table was moved, she could reach the strong box built into the bookcase wall.

The design was very clever. The wainscoting concealed a keyhole on one side. The seam blended with the other seams in the paneling and the hinges were mounted on the inside. The key wedged in the lock made the location obvious now, but when removed, it would be difficult to locate.

She turned the key and the heavy door swung open. Musty air rushed in her face. She coughed and sneezed several times. Bother! Thankfully Hill left a pile of cleaning rags on the empty shelves above the hidden door. She grabbed one and applied it liberally to the shelves inside.

_Clink_.

What was that? Her fingers met something cold and hard. A key. It looked suspiciously like the key she had just used—and indeed it was. How useful, given the very great inconvenience to be caused by losing the key. She attached it to her chatelaine. Unfortunately, the small strong box would not fit inside. No that would have been far too easy. She pushed up her sleeves and went across the room to the iron clad chest. What a nuisance she had not asked Piper to move it closer. Ah well, there was naught to be done for it now. Several minutes of huffing and straining saw it brought close enough for her satisfaction.

She sat back on her heels and unlocked the small box. Though the inventory was among her lists, she did not need it: her mother's jewels and Lady Ellen's, some day to be divided among herself and Jane; folios of papers including Papa's marriage settlements and will; a leather bound bundle of cash—

Unfamiliar footsteps echoed outside the door. She shoved everything else into the wall safe and slammed it and the strong box closed. With a quick wrench of the key, the door locked and the second key disappeared into her pocket.

The door flew open and revealed Mr. Wickham. He searched the room, clearly not noticing Elizabeth's presence amidst the disarray on the floor. He closed the door behind him and approached the nearest stack.

Elizabeth's heart pounded lough enough to reveal her location. There was no place to take cover. She slid her hand into her pocket and wrapped her fingers around the reassuring weight of the knife Papa insisted she always carry.

Mr. Wickham shoved the top of the uppermost crate aside and scanned the contents.

How dare he?

He replaced the top and set the crate aside.

She jumped to her feet and planted her hands on her hips, glaring. "Are you looking for something in particular, Mr. Wickham, or do you make it a habit to rifle through your master's things unbidden?"

"Oh! Miss Elizabeth, I did not see you there." He turned away from the crates wearing the expression Francis did when caught with a plate of purloined shortbread.

"Obviously." She quickly cleared the distance between them. "What are you doing here? I gave instructions I was not to be disturbed."

"I…I had not received that message, madam."

"I find that difficult to believe."

"I am on an errand for your father."

If his tone became any more placating, she would certainly slap him.

"What precisely was the nature of that errand?" She tapped her foot rapidly on the carpet.

"He wished for papers form his strong box." Mr. Wickham's eyes fixed on the iron-clad box on the floor. His gaze traveled to the wall. Probably looking for a key or lock.

Her teeth clenched until they squealed. "What were the papers he needed?"

"He did not say, he just wanted the lot of them." Wickham shrugged.

She edged closer, now, toe-to-toe with him. "That may work with others, sir, but not with me. I find you a very bad liar."

"I am wounded, madam."

"Not yet, but you may be if you continue along this path" Her shoulder's tensed painfully.

Mr. Wickham gasped and pressed and hand to his chest, a clearly practiced look of shock in his eyes.

"Save if for someone with sympathy to spare. I have none. Papa has not a single paper here that could be relevant right now."

Mr. Wickham cocked his head and flashed his eyebrows up and down. "I will let you answer to him then."

The hair on the back of her neck stood. "I will be happy to. In the meantime, I shall unpack the cat he keeps in the bag in his sea chest, in case he wishes to use it on either of us."

Wickham's right eye twitched. "You have a very unique sense of humor, madam."

"That was no joke." She met his glare with one of her own.

He looked away and smiled an annoying, patronizing smile that cried to be slapped off his face.

"You need to leave, Mr. Wickham." She crossed her arms tightly.

"Your father wants his papers. I suppose I shall have to bring him the entire box." He side-stepped her and stalked toward the iron clad box.

She dashed between him and the strongbox and sat upon it. "I said it is time for you to leave, sir. Take one more step closer and I assure you, you will wish most heartily you had not."

He threw back his head and laughed, but stopped when he met her eyes again. "All right, Miss Elizabeth, but you may regret—"

"No, I shall not. Out." She pointed at the door. Her hand trembled ever so slightly.

He bowed and backed out of the room.

She gripped the edges of the box to keep from shaking. Her breath caught in her lungs. If she released it, she might collapse. Never had she been so close to putting her knife into use.

Piper burst into the room. She jumped and cried out.

"Miss Lizzy!" He was at her side, on his knees, peering into her face with his good eye.

How did he move so fast?

"Are you well, Miss? I see'd that Wickham fellow scurrying away like someone threatened to take his family jewels."

A semi-hysterical laugh burst forth. She covered her mouth with her hands to contain it, but could not. "I suppose I did."

"Good on you, lass. He oughtn't been here, most especially not alone with you." Piper's eye narrowed. "What did he do?"

"He stared searching the crates before he knew I was in the room. Then he claimed Papa wanted papers from the strong box. He made to take off with the whole box."

Piper muttered a strong of epithets which would have been the death of most of the _Ton's_ proper ladies. "The Admiral don't—"

"I know. I do not trust him, Piper. All his good looks and smiles—I have no need." She shuddered. Her shoulder's sagged. "Why does Mr. Darcy favor him so?"

Piper blew out a long, low whistle. "I can't speak for the man, ya now, but I 'spect it is like the debt—"

"But you have saved each other and the debt goes both ways."

"Perhaps that is the problem. Your pa and me, we have exchanged debts so many times, we lost counting them and the score as it were, were settled and even. But for Mr. Darcy—he sees himself as doing all the owing—"

"Mr. Wickham owes his education and livelihood to Mr. Darcy—"

"It ain't the same as a life."

Elizabeth dropped her chin to her chest. Perhaps she could not understand. "Will you tell Papa what happened? He is so prickly where Mr. Wickham is concerned."

"Don't worry about nothing, there, Missy. You can leave it to me." He nodded slowly and patted her hand.

Late that night, Elizabeth fell into her bed, numb with exhaustion. Every muscle throbbed, every bone ached, every nerve worn to a threadbare nubbin. The wagons had been unloaded and the largest pieces put in place, thanks to the assistance Mr. Wickham arranged. But the amount left to do was enough to overwhelm even her stalwart constitution. Tears hovered, just waiting for the opportunity to burst forth.

A soft tap at her door broke the chain of dismal thoughts, but she did not have the strength to even acknowledge the interruption. The door creaked open and her father entered.

She struggled to lift her head. "Papa?"

He sat on the edge of her bed. "Do not trouble yourself to get up."

She rolled toward him he and propped herself up on her elbow. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, not exactly." He sighed. "Piper spoke to me."

She squeezed her eyes shut again the burning tears. Bother it all. The last thing she needed now was to fall into tears. Papa never responded well to tears. But she was so tired she might not keep them back.

"He told me what happened. I know you do not trust Mr. Wickham."

She shook her head and steeled herself. She knew better than to believe his quiet voice meant a quiet temper. He was most apt to scold when he was so quiet. Her throat cramped around a sob.

"Piper shares your concerns."

She swallowed hard.

"You should know, I did ask Wickham to retrieve some things for me."

She turned her face aside and pressed her fist to her mouth.

"But I never told him they were in my study, much less in my strong box."

Her eyes flew open and she sat up. He took her hand.

"You were correct. He had no business in my study. I distinctly told him I had left my lists in the library."

"Then why—"

"I can only imagine he was not paying sufficient attention to my direction and did not wish to lose face by asking."

She sniffed and dragged her sleeve across her face.

"Go on, out with it, Lizzy."

She bit her lip and puffed out a breath. The lump in her throat was hard to swallow back. "I do not think that was the case. He did not at all seem like a man confused." She looked down and rubbed the back of her hand across her mouth. "Papa, he frightened me."

He grunted and shifted so she could see his face in the moonlight from the window. The shadows made his frown deeper, darker and more frightening that it ever could be in the daylight. She cringed.

"You had your knife?"

She nodded.

"Good. I will not have you afraid in your own home. Whilst I cannot protect you from everything, within my walls you will feel safe." He squeezed her hand. "I am sorry, my dear. I shall speak to Mr. Wickham myself and make it clear that the day he frightens you or Jane again will be his last in my employ."

A tear leached down her cheek. She rubbed it away on her shoulder. Sometimes he knew exactly the right things to say. She pressed her cheek to his shoulder.

"You wonder why I hired him at all, do you not?"

She nodded.

"He reminds me of Piper, years ago. You know how many are uncomfortable around him. His ways are, let us say, unrefined."

"Positively menacing at times." Elizabeth smiled.

"Indeed, and his countenance does nothing to belie that impression. It is not difficult for those who do not know him to dismiss him as criminal. I think he might well have turned out that way had your mother not seen something redeemable in him."

"Mama?"

"Yes. It was on her urging that I kept Piper on and I owe my life to that decision. All he needed was one fair chance to make of himself what he could. Mr. Darcy says the same thing of Mr. Wickham."

She searched her father's face, not quite certain of what she was looking for.

"No, I know there are no guarantees in people, Lizzy. Some will come through for you and some will fail you. All we can do is give a fair chance for them to show their true colors."

"So you do not trust him either?"

"Not more than he's earned. Certainly not with my strong box or, more importantly, with you and Jane. I will be watching him carefully, rest easy. I will not let anything happen." He leaned down and kissed her forehead softly. "Now, sleep, my dear." He helped her lay down and tucked the covers around her shoulders. "Good night, my dear."

He padded away and shut the door.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

The next morning, Elizabeth slept much later than usual. By the time she made it to the morning room, Papa had already breakfasted and was away with Piper at his tasks. Thoughtful as ever, he had left her his newspaper and a list of his plans for the day. Dear Papa, though he could be utterly maddening, with his inflexible routines, he was also as dependable as the sunrise, not like the dandies and fops she met in London. She swallowed back bitter revulsion. Those were not men, but overgrown children, and her younger brothers were children enough for her.

She picked up his list and a scone. He was ambitious with his plans. She laughed. Good thing dear Piper could keep up with him. They would all be lost without Papa's man. How did Mr. Darcy manage without a man like Piper? Perhaps that was why he always seemed so serious. Now, why was she thinking of Mr. Darcy?

She found her pencil, turned Papa's list over and scribbled her own notes down. After they brought the boys and their governess home, she and Jane would have to pick up where they had left off the day before. Jane still slept though. Perhaps she would go alone to get the boys. Jane could use the rest.

Enough dawdling. She puffed a breath through her cheeks and pushed away from the table. Eyes on her list, she strode into the corridor. Two steps down the hall, she was on the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.

"Oh!" She shoved the weight atop her away, fists balled, elbow ready to drive into the first identifiable target.

"Excuse me, madam." Wickham scrambled back, sliding along the tile. "Forgive me, are you injured?" He hauled himself onto a knee.

She refused his hand and grabbed hold of the wainscoting to pull herself up. "I am well, sir." She panted and shoved stray hair behind her ear. "Do you normally proceed down the hall at such a reckless pace?"

"No, madam. But I was in search of you." He stood and offered her a half bow. "Are you in the habit of reading as you walk; for if you are, I shall surely take better care to give you a wide berth." His right eye and cheek twitched in something that might pass for other observers as a smile.

Elizabeth found it impertinent. "No, I am not. Pray excuse me." She dusted off her skirt.

Wickham bent and picked something up. "Your chatelaine, I believe." He held it up, the small chains tangled together.

"Bother, I will have to untangle these later, thank you." She pushed it into her pocket. "You said you were looking for me?"

"Yes. I just had a most enlightening conversation with your father." He voice changed ever so slightly, like a violin going just off tune.

The back of her neck prickled.

"He informed me that I had upset you yesterday and I wish to offer my profound apologies. It was most unconsciously done and I pray your discomfort is of short duration. Be assured, I will take greater care in the future to guard your delicate feelings most assiduously." He bowed deeply.

She stared and blinked several times. "Thank you." It seemed a strange thing to say, but she could conceive of no other response.

"If you will excuse me." He strode away.

She watched his departing form, not certain what she was looking for. His apology had been everything she—or her father—might ask for, but still it did little to ease her mind or her heart. It was a step in the right direction, though—was it not? She pinched her temples. Why did that man manage to discompose her so?

Enough of that, there was too much to be done to waste time on him. She knelt to retrieve her fallen papers and pencil. She fumbled for her chatelaine and patiently untangled the chains to loose the tiny case for her pencil. Bother! Her scissors were missing—and two keys. A quick scan of the floor revealed nothing. They must have skittered under the bookcase. She would have to ask Piper for his help with that when he returned.

A little over a se'nnight later, life at Alston Hall took on the beginnings of normalcy. Admiral Bennet stopped rearranging the furniture and the twins found their playthings. Books were where they first looked for them. All the rooms were open and aired. In short, the first wave of moving frenzy faded into a budding routine. Some of the weight faded from Elizabeth's shoulders and she and Jane finally had time to consider paying calls to their neighbors. How convenient for them that Lady Catherine's dinner party should be tonight.

Elizabeth stood before her looking glass. Her room, which caught the morning sun, was cool and bathed in late afternoon shadow. How long had it been since she had really dressed up for an evening? She smoothed her burgundy silk skirt a final time, but the flutterings of her stomach were not so easily soothed. Should she change this for a lighter color? White was so fashionable. She heaved a labored breath. Months had passed since she had to face meeting new people, coming under their judgment and scrutiny. Perhaps Derbyshire would not be like London.

Georgiana assured her that she would find many friends among the ladies. More comforting was the intelligence that there were few young men currently in the neighborhood. She was not some prize ship to be hunted for its bounty and somehow the young men of the _Ton _did not seem to understand that nor were they willing to learn. She worked her tongue against the roof of her mouth to dull the lingering bitterness there.

At least Darcy never treated her that way. He never complimented her father in the hopes of garnering her favor; he never hinted as to the extent of her fortune; he doted on her brothers as much as on his own boys, all things which should have won her regard. Instead, they only discomposed her. She would have felt better if not for Wickham, the one glaring piece of evidence that Darcy's judgment was imperfect. She still had not found her keys since he ran into her and could not help but wonder—

"Are you ready, Lizzy?" Jane called through the door.

"I am." Elizabeth hurried out. Jane was lovely and so serene in her pale yellow gown. The color suited her so well. She always seemed to know what to wear and never doubted her judgment. If only she could be so confident.

"I am glad you brought out that dress. You never did wear it in London." Jane straightened a bit of trim along Elizabeth's shoulder.

Elizabeth shrugged and followed Jane downstairs.

Phillip and Francis pounded after them, catching them about halfway down. Elizabeth was only mildly surprised that they did not attempt to slide down the banister to beat them to the foyer. The chances of Papa catching them were probably too high and they surely did not want to repeat that experience.

"Is it time to go 'lisbet?" Philip grinned up at her, showing off his newly gap-toothed smile.

Elizabeth ruffled his hair. "No, dear, this is not an event for children. Remember how we talked about that? You will be staying home with Francis tonight."

"That is not fair!" Francis stomped. "The Darcy's are our friends, too. Why should we not be invited?"

"Because," Admiral Bennet boomed from the stairs above them. He fastened the final button of his coat and tugged his sleeves. "Children do not belong at the dinner table until they are old enough to display proper manners. Which," he tapped them under their chins, "neither of you is. Need I remind you of what happened just two days ago when you joined us at dinner?"

Their quarrel over the best methods for frog catching had been amusing, but when it devolved to throwing potatoes, Papa's only choice had been to banish them from the dining room.

"No, Papa." Philip looked down at his feet.

Poor Philip felt Papa's reprimands so deeply, unlike Francis who barely noted them. He looked to Lizzy, presumably for sympathy, but she shook her head silently. Though she sympathized with her brothers missing their playmates, she would not side against her father.

"But Papa, even Mr. Wickham is attending and he works for you. How can it be so fancy an affair if he is attending?" Francis pursed his lips and blinked.

Elizabeth stiffened? Wickham at dinner? She shivered.

"Who the other guests are is none of your concern." Papa grunted. "You have been assigned to Piper for the evening. He has work for you to do."

"Awww, no, please." Francis whined. "We studied all day with Miss Wexley. You are going to a party. Can't we at least have some fun tonight?"

"Enough out of you." Papa turned Francis by the shoulder and swatted him firmly. "Go sit in the foyer and wait for Piper's return."

The twins trudged downstairs and dropped heavily into the chairs.

"I saw the coach approaching just before we came down." Jane winked.

Papa's eyes crinkled.

Elizabeth folded her arms and tapped her foot. "Is there something else you have not told me?"

"Yes, but what was the first thing?" Papa asked.

The door flung open, revealing Piper with George and David Darcy at his sides.

"Oh, Papa!" Philip squealed and rushed to his friends.

Piper winked as well as his scars would allow, a menacing look on the best of days. "I'll just be taking 'em out for a spell 'till you have left. No sense letting 'em spoil your finery. I'll have 'em string up the hammocks in the attic for the night."

"You will take your berth with them?" Papa walked down several more steps.

"Indeed sir, poor Miss Wexley ain't prepared for hammocks." Piper chuckled and led the boys outside.

"I do not know who will thank you more, your boys, their governess or Mr. Darcy." Jane's brows lifted just slightly.

"Mr. Darcy, no doubt." Elizabeth chuckled and the followed Pap downstairs. "That was very thoughtful of you. I wonder though, if I should not stay home—"

"Piper has managed far worse than the likes of those tykes. He does not need your help tonight." Papa's eyes narrowed and he stared into her face. "You are trying to avoid Mr. Wickham."

Elizabeth sighed. "I have no wish to spend an evening in his company."

"Then do not. There will be plenty of other company available to entertain you." He scowled.

Jane laid her hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. "It will be fine, Lizzy, truly."

"I do not see why you permit him to bother you so. You give him entirely too much notice. Has he troubled you since I spoke with him?"

"No, sir."

"Then let the matter drop. Do not waste this opportunity to know our neighbors and do not insult Lady Catherine's hospitality." He pushed the door open and led them to the coach.

She settled into her seat. The cool leather was smooth under her fingers, its smell comfortingly familiar and safe. Papa was right. Wickham gave her a wide berth and, save his apology, had scarcely spoken a dozen words to her since then and all of those were entirely proper and necessary. The pleasure of Pemberley's company should not be forsaken for her unnecessary sensitivity. She settled back into the seat and forced her mind onto the great advantages of an evening spent in amiable company.

The sun just touched the tree tops as the coach stopped at Pemberley's front steps. The first refreshing breezes of evening worked to clear away the heat of the day. Admiral Bennet pushed open the carriage door and handed his daughters out. They were so very beautiful this night. His throat pinched. They would be leaving him soon; that was the way of things. When they did, it would just be him and the boys and Piper in that huge, lonely manor.

Lady Catherine opened the door and waited for them at the top of the stairs. He had expected the butler to show them in. How odd, and warmly flattering, that the lady of the house should come to greet them. He straightened his cravat.

"Good evening," Lady Catherine said, extending her hands to Jane and Lizzy. "It is so good to see you. I know it has only been a week, but how much we have missed you!"

"You have missed us, or is it our brothers way of entertaining George and David you have missed?" Lizzy asked brows lifted.

Lady Catherine laughed. Funny, he had not noticed until now, how sweet a sound it was.

"Silly girl! Though the boys have missed their mates most bitterly, you can be quite certain that Georgiana and I have been at loose ends for female company since you have left us. The men quite outnumber us. She is quite put out with no one but me to advise her on her embroidery." Lady Catherine's fan flashed out of her pocket and began its familiar fluttering.

Admiral Bennet stood at the foot of the stairs and watched. A familiar ache opened somewhere near his heart. Elizabeth's words echoed through his mind. '_You must remarry, Papa…Lady Catherine…'_

He shifted from one foot to the other. That dratted knee was bothersome again. He kneaded his thigh, just above the scar that pained him. Dear Ellen nursed him so patiently though that injury. She had teased him that he would be lost without a wife to tend his needs. Had she seen what Lizzy saw too? He did not like to admit it, but he was lonely for the companionship of a woman and not just of the baser sort that could be bought. He missed a companion, a friend, an equal to share his burdens, his interests, and to share hers. His daughters tried, but it was not the same.

But was it possible to find affection thrice in one lifetime? It seemed too much to ask. Lonely though he was, a marriage of convenience would not suit. No, to be alone in the company of one's wife was more intolerable than his current state.

Lady Catherine was certainly a handsome woman, though not in the way Fanny had been. No, she had been truly stunning, and Lady Ellen's quite grace and elegance could not be matched. But that did not mean Lady Catherine was entirely unattractive. His conversations with her had been pleasant and she doted on her grandsons and their friends. That was certainly in her favor. He would not subject his boys to an indifferent step-mother any more than he had Jane and Elizabeth. She also befriended his daughters. So perhaps…perhaps.

He tugged his sleeves and slowly climbed the stairs, hoping his reliance on the handrail was not too obvious.

Lady Catherine ushered the girls inside, but she lingered on the landing, waiting for him?

"Good evening, Admiral." She smiled.

Her eyes were quite lovely, a peculiar shade of grey that changed with the color she wore. Tonight they took on a blue tone, matching the shade of her gown. He peeked through the door. "Are we the first to arrive?"

"Yes sir, I suggested a slightly earlier time to Jane. The others should not arrive for a quarter hour at least." Her fan stopped his flickering. "I thought it might be more comfortable for all of you to be settled in to greet the others, rather than sweeping into a room already filled with strangers. I hope that is to your liking."

He swallowed hard. "You are most considerate. I know that Lizzy, in particular, will appreciate that. Thank you." He offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

She tucked her hand onto his elbows, where it felt right and natural it should be, and they walked into the house.


	17. Chapter 17

**I am pleased to announce All the Appearance of Goodness, Given Good Principles Vol 3 is available on Kindle and Nook now.**

**For those of you who read Given Good Principles here, please now that All the Appearance of Goodness is a complete rewrite of the original. I think it is true to the original, but with a new and much improved plot. Check out my website for an excerpt.**

**Chapter 17**

Darcy trotted down the stairs, tugging at his cuffs. Though he would likely never mention it, Lady Catherine's plan to have the Bennet's arrive early was brilliant. The more he thought about sharing the Bennet's company—Miss Elizabeth's company—with their neighbors, the less he liked it. After their lengthy visit, he was accustomed to having her attention to himself. Not that Vance or Henry were likely to garner her attention beyond what was polite and appropriate in company. Vance was poorly read and cared little for thoughtful conversation. Oh, he was entertaining, but it would take more than mere entertainment to catch the attention of a discerning woman like Miss Elizabeth. And Henry, he was a decent enough fellow, but quite incapable of talking about anything but himself. He knew how Miss Elizabeth felt about men with that trait.

He straightened his cravat and huffed out a shallow breath. What was he thinking? Why should he be concerned how Miss Elizabeth found his neighbors? That should be none of his concern. His life was perfectly acceptable and he was content. _ Content is not happy._ Why could he not silence Lady Cather's words? They continued to plague him at the most inconvenient times. Bah!

He paused at the landing. Miss Elizabeth stood in the foyer, talking with Lady Catherine. His breath hitched. Stunning, simply and completely stunning. Breathing took second place to filling his eyes with her. She belonged here, in his home, mistress of Pemberly.

What was he thinking? How could he possibly displace Lady Catherine from her place? She had lost so much already, her daughter, her home, could he be the agent of more loss? He pledged to protect and provide for her when her husband failed so spectacularly. He would not renege on his promise.

His feet weighed far more than they should and stayed stubbornly rooted to the landing's marble. Lady Catherine laughed and smiled up at Admiral Bennet, clinging to his arm like a debutant. Her eyes—that was the look of a woman well pleased with a gentleman's attention. But what of Bennet? The Admiral best not trifle—gah! How had he gone from son to father-protector in a single thought. How these Bennets had addled his mind!

He shook his head sharply and slowly descended the remaining steps. He would master this!

All eyes turned to him.

"At last you have chosen to join us." Lady Catherine would normally produce her fan after such a statement, but her hands were engaged with Admiral Bennet's arm. "Have you encountered Fitzwilliam somewhere upstairs as well?"

"I am here."

Darcy jumped. He turned over his shoulder and glared at Fitzwilliam who wore a maddening smirk.

"Good evening." Fitzwilliam bowed.

Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth curtsied, clearly struggling not to laugh at Fitzwilliam's antics.

"It is very good to see you tonight." Darcy bowed, smiling in spite of himself. How could he remain angry in the presence of such beauty?

"Your party is very well timed, sir." Admiral Bennet bowed. "I believe my daughters are quite ready for some diversion after all the moving efforts this week."

"We are most happy to provide it." Lady Catherine glanced from Fitzwilliam to Miss Bennet. "Shall we proceed inside?"

Darcy extended his arm toward Miss Elizabeth. "Would you care for a turn about the garden before the rest of our guests arrive?"

"What a capital idea. Miss Bennet?" Fitzwilliam offered his arm.

"Shall we, madam?" Admiral Bennet cocked his head at Lady Catherine.

"What a lovely idea. You are quite inspired, my boy." Lady Catherine nodded at Darcy and led the group into the garden.

The young people dispersed to opposite sides of the rose garden, still in view of their chaperones, but distant enough for somewhat private conversations.

"They are excellent men." Lady Catherine sighed. "I owe them a great deal. Have you never wondered why I would be living here with Darcy?"

"I confess, the thought has crossed my mind, but it is not a gentlemanly question to ask. You do not need to speak of it." Admiral Bennet adjusted the length of his gait to accommodate his companion.

She nodded, gaze at her feet. "I want you to know. I see how they look at each other, Darcy and your daughter. I am not sure they understand it yet, but I do. I believe you should understand what kind of man gazes at your daughter that way."

He chuckled a little grimly. "My Lizzy has little intention of marrying."

"So she had told me. It is no wonder, given the men she has had opportunity to meet. But my nephew—and son-in-law—is different and eventually they will come to their senses and understand it. When that happens I do not want a protective old goat of a father interfering with their happiness." She peeked up at him.

He stopped mid-stride and stared at her. She shook her head and shoulders enough to ruffle her taffeta, sounding and looking far too much like a disgruntled hen. If this was her attempt to look formidable—no it was not that. Too much good humor glittered in her eyes. The corner of his lips drifted up. "So you wish to tell me and I do not object to hear it."

"I must beg your patience as the story goes back some time." She tipped her head toward a bench and they sat. "My father, the Earl of Matlock, arranged my marriage with a younger son of a wealthy gentleman while we were both very young. I was but sixteen when I married and he but a few years older. I was very sheltered and it turns out so was he. He was quite pleased to leave the supervision of his father household when he came to live at Rosing Park, property that I brought into the marriage. As soon as I fell with child, he left for an extended visit to London, only returning after Anne, his only child and heir was born."

Tension radiated from her like heat crackling from a fire. Bennet slid his hand close to hers, their gloved fingertips touching.

"Forgive my indelicacy, but when he returned I…I noted…evidence of the French disease on his person and locked the door against him. I knew too well what—well, enough said there. He was unhappy and soon left for our London house. There he remained for much of our marriage. I do not need to tell you how it went, for I know you have seen men ravaged by the disease It took his mind from him and in his last five years, he became alternately melancholic and violent. It was after one of his episodes that Darcy happened upon Anne and I."

He gasped and laid his hand on hers. "Even in the grip of disease, that is unconscionable."

"Be that as it may, it is what happened. Darcy and Fitzwilliam happened upon us in our desperate hour. Fitzwilliam, then but a captain, removed Sir Lewis from the estate forcibly and took him back to London. Darcy packed Anne and I up and brought us to Pemberley himself."

Bennet glanced at Darcy, deep in conversation with Lizzy and nodded. Darcy must have been young, but nineteen or twenty perhaps when that happened. Protective even then, a most admirable trait.

"Darcy had just lost his father and had only months before taken over Pemberley, yet he still insisted upon protecting us. He decided that the most effective way to protect us was to marry Anne and so he did. Theirs was not a love match, but it was an amiable one. He was faithful to my daughter until her death when David was born. He was an excellent husband to her and son to me, and as you know, he is a marvelous father to his boys."

"He is that indeed."

"It was not until Sir Lewis passed that I understood how much Darcy had done for us. You see, in his madness, he impoverished Rosings, leaving us almost nothing to live on. Had Anne not been mistress of Pemberley, we would have been reduced to genteel poverty and forced to live off the charity of our family. Even now, he will not hear of me living elsewhere, insisting that my grandsons need me. But even when they are grown, I have no doubt I will have a home here, honored as a mother, not a tolerated guest." She pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed her eyes.

"I am so sorry, madam, I had no idea."

"Now you understand why I might plead his cause and why I am so certain he is a man after your own heart, sir." She pressed her lips tightly and would not meet his eyes.

"I can only imagine what it has cost you to tell me this and you can be certain that I will not bear this tale any further. Thank you for trusting me with it." He tried to catch her eye, but she dodged his gaze. He took her chin in his hand and turned her to look at him. It was too familiar a gesture, but they were too old to be bothered by the notion of compromises.

Oh, she was lovely in the glow of the sunset. Vulnerable and strong, she had known adversity and still prevailed in the midst of the storm, the very kind of companionship he longed for. He marshaled all his strength not to kiss her.

The setting sun bathed Miss Elizabeth in a warm glow. Though he had tried to deny it, her absence from Pemberley had been as distracting as the four young boys running through its halls. He would have gladly endured one for the privilege of the other. Lady Catherine had been correct, as usual. But how did one court a woman like Miss Elizabeth? One immune to flattery and small talk, who had traveled even more broadly than he, whose understanding was quick and sure, with a rapier wit and a keen ability to see through to a man's core. No wonder the _Ton_ had little tolerance for her. She did not belong in London; she belonged here, at his side. But how to convince her of it?

A movement at the edge of his vision demanded his attention. He whipped his head around and his jaw dropped. "What is he thinking?" He took a step toward the far corner of the garden where Admiral and Lady Catherine sat far closer than propriety allowed.

Miss Elizabeth caught his arm. "Wait."

Bennet stroked Lady Catherine's cheek.

Darcy held his breath, heat rising along his jaw.

Bennet leaned in and pressed his lips to her forehead. She looked up and he touched his lips to hers.

"How dare he exercise such familiarity?" Darcy's fingers knotted into a fist.

"Stop it," Elizabeth whispered. "Can you not see? He is comforting her. She just shared… something with him and is distressed. Do you not recognize that?"

He swallowed back the harrumph that filled his throat. "It is not proper."

"Will you not hang the talk of propriety? She is a widow; he a widower - both with well grown children. Give them some leave to know how to conduct themselves." She squeezed his arm hard. "That is my father you are talking of. Do you accuse him—"

"No." He released the breath that had lingered too long in his chest.

"Papa would not trifle with her. You can be certain he will not—"

"Of course, you are correct." He placed a hand over Miss Elizabeth's, tension melting from his shoulders. "I am sorry. I am not accustomed—"

"It is difficult to consider a parent courting." Elizabeth's lips twitched in what he hoped was amusement. "I remember when he courted Lady Ellen. It took some effort to reconcile ourselves to the idea. It is not easy to adjust to the notion of our parents engaging in something so …youthful."

"Has she told you?"

"She has shared some of her story."

"Then you know she has nothing."

"That is probably what she just told Papa. You can see his response. He does not want wealth. He wants…he is lonely. I think Lady Catherine might be as well."

Darcy bit back the argument dancing on the tip of his tongue. "I never considered that—but perhaps you are correct."

"Leave them to know what they are about. But if they decided this is what they want, please do not—"

Darcy snickered. "I doubt she would allow me to hamper her intentions. But I assure you, I will not interfere in what manner they choose to be happy."

"Thank you." She looked up at him with shimmering eyes.

Oh, that he would have the Admiral's boldness to kiss her as her full crimson lips begged. The more he filled his eyes with her face, the better the idea seemed. He leaned closer.

"Our company approaches."

He jumped and whirled toward the voice. When had Fitzwilliam and Miss Bennet come upon them? Confound him! Fitzwilliam enjoyed this little game of his far too much.

"Perhaps we should go inside and give them a few moments more." Jane said softly.

Darcy caught Fitzwilliam's eyes, eyebrows rising.

"I saw." Fitzwilliam winked and slapped Darcy's shoulder. "She is not your daughter or your sister. Relax. I can think of no one better suited for her. She deserves a chance to have what Sir Lewis denied her."

"I am glad you agree." Elizabeth said with a smile that should have been for Darcy alone.

Darcy dipped his head and smiled at Elizabeth. She rewarded him with her eyes and the world was right again. He adjusted her hand in the crook of his arm. Greeting his guests with Miss Elizabeth on his arm would be quite satisfactory.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Though he might not have shown it openly, Papa could not have missed Darcy's looks his way, nor would he fail to make the best of the opportunity afforded him for a few minutes private interview. The only thing Elizabeth could repine was that their stolen moments would put her in the position of meeting guests without their hostess or her father to buffer their attentions. When had she become so reticent? Should their last Season have affected her so?

Mr. Darcy's shoulder brushed hers. He stood close by, unwilling to relinquish her arm. His protectiveness probably should have been bothersome, even presumptuous, but she found it oddly comforting. As such, she had no desire to examine it further for fear of losing the small measure of consolation she found.

Naturally, it would be Mr. Wickham, of all people, who walked through the door first.

"Good evening, Darcy, Miss Elizabeth." Wickham bowed. "So good of you to invite me to dine with you tonight."

His eyes lingered on her bosom until her skin crawled. She drew breath to release the barb on her tongue, but Mr. Darcy's glower at Mr. Wickham stopped her short.

Mr. Darcy cleared his throat. Shoulders pulled back, he grew several inches taller to tower menacingly over Mr. Wickham. Pleasing solicitude indeed.

Wickham edged back, but his leering grin did not fade until Papa and Lady Catherine entered. With a quick glance at Papa, he removed himself from the foyer.

They scooted aside to make room for Papa and Lady Catherine. A family arrived, ushering in a transformation of Lady Catherine into the consummate hostess.

"May I present Sir Allen, Mrs. Vance, Master Vance and Miss Vance." She gestured toward the new arrivals.

Sir Allen reminded her of the print shop caricatures of armored knights of yore, everything pointy and shiny and slightly askew. His wife's matronly figure made up for his gauntness. Strawberry blond and fresh-faced, Miss Vance looked just as Georgiana had described her—a sweet, if somewhat unimaginative girl.

Master Vance bowed over her hand. "Charmed to meet you, madam."

"Likewise, I am sure." She curtsied.

Darcy stood rigid—a cough or sneeze would surely shatter him. He smiled, but it was not the heartfelt one Elizabeth knew. This expression was thin and tense, worn as one wore a hat or cravat, to show and impress. Why should he feel a need to wear it now?

The Vance's passed by and she peeked up at him. He glanced at her and their eyes locked.

She forgot to exhale, lost in the depth of his gaze. The useless fops of the _ton_ saw pounds when they looked in her eyes. Darcy was seeing something else, but what was it?

Another couple swept in.

Elizabeth tore her eyes from Darcy's.

"May I present Mr. Henry and his sister, Miss Henry." Lady Catherine glowed. Was it her comfort in her role or was it the man standing beside her that sparked the light in her eyes?

Bows and curtsied were exchanged. If Mr. Henry had one more frill in his cravat, she could have dismissed him as a dandy, but as it was, he merely came off as mildly vain and self-absorbed. After all, with the time it would take to tie such a monstrosity, little else might be accomplished in a day. Beside him, Miss Henry was a daisy left several hours too long in a dry vase; commonly pretty, but wilted along the edges.

Mr. Samuels, the vicar, and his wife followed; both white-haired and jolly, and very much to her liking. Three Albertsons trailed them. Mister, Missus and Master John, who appeared just old enough for company, the age Mary would have been had she lived. His wide eyes and stammered greeting bore testimony to his recent entrance to polite company.

Darcy seemed to find his good humor once more as he chatted with the young man who shared his passion for fine horses and hunting. Elizabeth exhaled the tension built up in her shoulders. Perhaps she would not have to endure the grumpy master of Pemberley all evening as she had feared.

"Shall we adjourn to the dining room then?" Lady Catherine said, her hand still firmly in Papa's arm.

Elizabeth winked at her father. His brows pulled together in an imitation of a scowl that did not materialize. He glanced at her hand in Mr. Darcy's arm and cocked his head. Her cheeks burned. Papa nodded with a little wink of his own and escorted Lady Catherine away. She should know better than to tease Papa so. She would never escape such an encounter unscathed.

"Miss Elizabeth?" Mr. Darcy's sonorous voice near her ear was more caress than address.

A spark raced down her spine. She fought to keep the surprise—and dare she admit—delight off her face. It would not do to be so open, certainly not in such company.

"Shall we?"

She nodded, her voice too untrustworthy to use now.

The dining table overflowed with a multitude of dishes, their fragrances mingling and perfuming the air. Elizabeth's mouth watered as she identified many Bennet favorites among them. How incredibly thoughtful. Though polished and formal, the room glittered with the warmth of candle light and the promise of good conversation. Lady Catherine and Mrs. Reynolds had certainly outdone themselves.

Darcy took his place at one end of the table, insisting Elizabeth and Jane sit on either side of him. Lady Catherine occupied the other end with Papa and the Samuels. Young Master Albertson sat between Elizabeth and Wickham. Miss Vance sat across from him, beside the Colonel and Georgiana.

"Were your brothers much surprised?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, eyes sparkling and full of Jane.

Jane glowed with confident happiness—something she often did in the Colonel's presence. "They were most pleased, though I feel sorry for Piper tonight."

"Is it true that your brothers are identical twins?" Master Albertson asked as he sawed at a juicy slab of meat.

He had clearly not yet grown into is appetite. Elizabeth suppressed her smile. It would not be long before her brothers displayed the same ravenous tendencies in the dining room. But his manners! She laced her fingers in her lap to restrain herself from taking his knife and cutting his food properly. "Yes they are, much to the dismay of their governess."

"Are they the same age as Master George?"

How could Master Albertson manage to form words around the chunk of mutton in his mouth? Tomorrow she would begin reforming her brothers' table manners. "Slightly younger, I believe, but only a little."

"That is such a trying age." Miss Vance sipped her wine and cast furtive glances at Darcy.

The hair on the back of Elizabeth's neck prickled. "I suppose it can be. But I find I rather enjoy them." She fought to blunt the sharp note in her voice. The audacity of the woman to criticize her bothers without even knowing them.

Mr. Darcy cleared his throat just a bit. She glanced at him and his eye twitched in the barest of winks. The corner of his lips rose a fraction.

So Miss Vance had little tolerance for children. Darcy tolerated her, but nothing more. Elizabeth's hackles smoothed.

Wickham leaned slightly over his plate and covered his mouth with his hand. He caught Miss Vance's eyes. "I have heard Miss Elizabeth finds them most amusing and is their master at teaching them sword play. She quite despises all other pastimes in comparison. "

Master Albertson stared at her, his cheeks puffed with potatoes and peas.

Cold seized Elizabeth's belly. Bile burned the back of her throat.

Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy glowered in matching stormy expressions.

Georgiana's eyes bulged and her cheeks colored. "She is a wonderful sister and her brothers and my nephews adore her."

"Miss Vance," Colonel Fitzwilliam said, a touch more loudly than necessary. "I understand you and your brother are recently returned from Bath. How did you find it?"

Dear man, Colonel Fitzwilliam. She must find a way to thank him later. For now, she focused on her plate. Cut, chew, swallow the tasteless, dry bit. Sip the flavorless wine and try to ignore it all. What were Wickham's teases compared to the brutal gossips of London? No, it was not so bad. It might even be considered the familiar teasing of old friends. The roiling in her stomach and the trembling in her hand were certainly overreactions. She must get herself under control. She drew a slow deep breath and exhaled even more slowly. This was not London and she could leave those old responses behind. She would master this.

Her favorite pie made the second course pass quickly. Near the end of the slice, she actually found she could taste the fruit and appreciate the savory, flaky crust. Yes, all was returning to as it should be. Sooner than she expected, Lady Catherine rose to gather the women to the drawing room. Elizabeth lingered behind, watching the ladies as they walked.

Georgia glanced back, an apologetic look in her eyes. She was embarrassed by Wickham, again. Why did her brother keep insisting on Wickham's company when he made Georgiana so uncomfortable? Mr. Darcy was not an unkind man, but how could he be so thick?

Miss Vance chatted with Miss Henry. Though Elizabeth could not hear their words, their posture and their expressions made their topic clear. But who did they find more offensive, Wickham or herself? That she would not know until she faced the drawing room. But perhaps that could wait for a few moments.

A cheery fire lit the drawing room, where tea, coffee and biscuits were already set out for them. She let the others seat themselves, then sat as far away as might still be considered polite. She would ease into this slowly.

Lady Catherine saw to it that the ladies were comfortably conversing and sat next to Elizabeth. "Are you well, my dear?"

"I am fine."

"No you are not." She patted Elizabeth's wrist. "I heard Mr. Wickham's dreadful remark; I fear everyone in the room did."

"It is nothing."

"You will yet learn not to lie to me." Lady Catherine clucked her tongue. "It was spiteful and rude and entirely inappropriate. You can be certain though, no one here faults you. He has damaged his own reputation, not yours."

Elizabeth dared not meet Lady Catherine's eyes. Her throat clamped down until she could barely breathe. "Why?" The word was only a squeak.

"He is a small, jealous and spiteful man who knows you see through his façade of civility and resents it. He begrudges his station in life and sees your father's generosity as a slight against what he believes he deserves. I cannot say I understand where he came by his ridiculous notions of entitlement, but I know they are there."

Elizabeth shook her head as much as her clenched throat allowed.

"The boldness of that man knows no bounds. He once offered for Georgiana."

Elizabeth gasped, the air chafed her throat.

"You did not know? As much as you and your sister have gotten her to talk, I thought surely she would have told you. You both have been so very good for her, you know. I despaired that she would ever come out of her shell. We have so much to thank you for." Lady Catherine pressed her hand to her chest and swallowed hard. "As to Wickham, she refused him, of course, and he was most unkind in response. But truly, what could he have expected? He took to teasing her, not unlike what he did to you tonight. She took it quite to heart, hence her shyness now. Fitzwilliam nearly went to fisticuffs with Wickham over it all. It was nearly a year before they could speak to each other in civil terms."

"Why does Mr. Darcy—"

Lady Catherine leaned back and huffed. She pulled out her fan and fluttered it close to her face. "That is complicated. Darcy is a good man with a profound sense of duty. Wickham has played upon it since they were boys. I know you have heard the story of how Wickham came to save Darcy's life. There were other, less dramatic incidents when my nephew found himself at odds with one or another of his peers and Wickham was often prevailed upon to soothe offended parties and negotiate understandings. I confess, I have long wondered if Wickham did not manage to manufacture those incidents to curry favor with Darcy and his father. But that is just my suspicious nature, I suppose. In any case, Darcy is convinced he owes a duty to Wickham and that overrides his general good sense." She snapped her fan closed. "I suppose when you are convinced you owe a man your life and a great many favors beyond, you can be persuaded to overlook a great deal."

"There are limits." Elizabeth forced out the dry, abrasive words.

"Indeed there are."

"Papa and Mr. Piper are similarly indebted to one another, but Piper is nothing like Mr. Wickham."

"No, he is not, nor would your father tolerate it. I dare say he will be quite displeased with Wickham tonight."

"He heard?"

Lady Catherine bit her lip and smiled tightly. "I fear Mr. Wickham may soon be seeking other employment. But please, do not judge my nephew by his generosity. He would rather fail by giving too much than too little."

The tension in Elizabeth's jaw softened and a breath escaped. "I had not thought of it in that way."

Lady Catherine clasped Elizabeth's hands. "Please try to keep that in mind." She rose and returned to the gaily chattering ladies.

Elizabeth fidgeted on the settee, too agitated to sit. Surrendering to the ill-ease, she pushed to her feet and slipped out of the drawing room. She gulped in the hallway's cool air, a balm to her pinched throat. A few moments more and surely her composure would return.

Shuffling, heavy steps heralded the men's departure from the dining room. No! She was not ready to face any of them. Not yet. A few steps away, a servant's door promised refuge. It would not hurt to duck inside for a moment. The door tapped safely shut a moment before those heavy steps entered the corridor. Several passed by her.

"So what think you of Miss Elizabeth?" That was Wickham in _sotto voce_.

"I found her most pleasing and very pretty indeed."

She blushed. Master Albertson was a dear boy.

"And you? You have had far more opportunity to know her than the rest of us."

"She is pretty enough I suppose, but the _ton_ quite rejected her, you know, and I am not disposed to give consequence to young ladies rejected by other men. She is certainly not handsome enough to tempt me."

All the warmth in her face drained away. She clenched her fists and her jaws. At least she heard it firsthand. There would be no doubting whether or not Wickham had actually said those words, if they could be misunderstood or misinterpreted. She had heard exactly what was said with her own ears.

Mater Albertson gasped. "You should not say such things. That was most ungracious and I will hear no more of this." He stomped away.

She pressed her ear to the door. Silence. Blinking fiercely to ease the burning in her eyes, she ducked through the door. It served her right for hiding in the servants' corridor, just one more impropriety to add to her list of transgressions. She shut the door and turned directly into Mr. Darcy's chest.

"Oh excuse me. I…" Her voice betrayed her. Had she only a moment to prepare, she could have covered her distress passably well, but it was not to be. He stared directly into her eyes and she knew they revealed far more than she wished.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Darcy caught Miss Elizabeth's arm as she stumbled into him. Confound it all, she had heard. Nothing else could explain that look in her eyes. "Please forgive me. I should never have invited him."

She stared up at him, mouth open, as if to speak, but she did not. Instead, she licked lips that begged to be kissed. Her dainty hands tightened around his upper arms. How he wished for the Admiral's boldness. ! He would sweep her into his arms and insist she never leave. Propriety demanded he free her from this compromising situation immediately. Preserving her honor was more important than indulging his passion. For now. He steadied her on her feet and released her, though everything in him rebelled against it.

She exhaled and smoothed her bodice. "You need not apologize for him. It is nothing." Her voice was a whisper, but a wraith of what it should have been.

"I must disagree. It was both ungentlemanly and untrue." He studied her eyes, the rawness apparent there. "Worse still, he has hurt you." The words rasped a burning path in his throat.

She looked away. Were her hands trembling?

"May I escort you back to the drawing room?" He offered his arm.

She looked from one end of the corridor to the other. "Please, I was seeking some fresh air."

"Then may I show you a most desirable place for that. I often find myself in need of such a respite. " He ushered her through nearby French doors to a quiet balcony. "Should you need anything, do not hesitate to ask. I will have a footman wait just inside the hall to attend you."

She shook her head. Of course she would protest such attention, but after his current neglect as a host, he could not fail in any possible attention now. He bowed and turned away.

He called the servant to his new station, whispering instructions lest Miss Elizabeth hear and find it necessary to protest. As much as he wished to stay and comfort her, there were too many reasons why he must not. And there was urgent business calling him. He tugged his coat and strode to the drawing room.

At his entry, the conversation paused, but soon resumed its former hum. Wickham stood with young Albertson a moment, then moved off to where Vance and Henry played cards. They dealt him into the hand, though Vance rolled his eyes and Henry wrinkled his nose. Had Wickham always been such unwelcome company to them?

Darcy edged back a bit, sheltering behind the edge of the bookcase, content to observe and take note of what he had apparently ignored for so long. Vance and Henry exchange several glances, each laced with disgust. Wickham talked through the entire hand. Instead of dealing again, Henry dropped the deck on the table and left, Vance on his heels. They both marched to the bookcase near the doorway.

"You will forgive my boldness, Darcy." Henry twitched his shoulders and puffed his chest, a young bantam preparing to take on the established rooster. "I know your fondness for Wickham—"

"But he has gone too far this time—completely outside the bounds of taste and manners. Just as one might expect of a person of his…quality." Vance folded his arms and tried to stare down his nose at Darcy but, since he was a hand span shorter, the effect was lost.

Henry nodded sharply at Vance. "It is a good thing that Miss Elizabeth was not in the room to hear his nattering."

"You realize, if her father gets wind of it, you may well have a duel on your front lawn." Vance jerked his head toward the settee where Admiral Bennet sat with Lady Catherine.

"What are you talking about?" The question was pointless, Darcy already knew.

Henry's eyes bulged. "Wickham is saying some most untoward things about Miss Bennet to anyone who will listen. Really, I do not understand why you even invited him."

Darcy lifted an open hand and grunted. He set his jaw and strode straight to Wickham. Poor young Albertson who talked with him pulled at his cravat and scuffed his feet, eyes darting about, probably looking for escape.

"Excuse me, but I believe I need to speak to Wickham." Darcy said.

Albertson ducked his head and dashed away with a whisper of thanks.

Wickham propped his shoulder against the wall and crossed his ankles. "Why the serious expression? Have you forgotten this is a happy occasion? Can you not enjoy your own party, or did Lady Catherine force it upon you? Never fear, I shall cheer you and you will soon make merry with the rest of us. That is why you asked me here is it not?" He winked and turned his gaze on Miss Bennet and the young ladies gathered around her.

There was something wholly unsavory in his expression: that of a dog slavering over delicacies not meant for it. Darcy had seen the look often enough, but had never identified it for what it was before now. How could he have been so blind? "I need to speak to you privately. Come." He jerked his head toward the door. Without looking to see if Wickham followed, he stalked into the hall.

Wickham's footsteps rang on the marble, just off tempo from his own, fighting for preeminence in the narrow space. Just like Wickham himself, never quite satisfied with his place, seeking one more way to get ahead. Darcy pushed open the study door and ushered Wickham inside.

Elizabeth gulped in the milky smooth night air. It trickled down her throat into her lungs, easing the raw burning. Wickham's words were just that, words. Compared to the gossip of the _ton_, this was nothing. What a foolish child she was being. Such sensitivity would not do. Elizabeth Bennet was no shrinking flower. Enough hiding; she would face Darcy's guests for better or worse.

She swallowed hard and peeked back into the corridor. The hall was empty, though she heard voices coming from the drawing room. Strange, neither Darcy's nor Wickham's voice were among them. Mr. Darcy often listened, so it was possible he was yet in the drawing room. But Wickham rarely kept his own counsel. If she did not hear him, it was because he was elsewhere.

What trouble might he be stirring left to his own devices? She took several anxious steps only to pause and pinch her temples. She was overreacting once again. How many times had Wickham already been in this house? If he has some disagreeable design, he would not have waited until now to do something about it. No, she was just finding excuses to avoid the drawing room.

She smoothed the front of her skirts and turned toward the drawing room. Quick steps took her to the door. She dare not pause, but forced herself into the populated room. The conversations quieted, so much that her heartbeat must surely be heard by all.

Lady Catherine appeared at her elbow. "I am so glad you have returned to us, my dear. Your papa was growing concerned."

"Yes, I was." Papa's voice whispered in her ear.

She jumped and turned to look at him. He stood very close, his chest nearly pressed into her back, a wall of warm strength that would not fail her. A sense of safety rush over her, so hard and fast she barely gasped back a sob. Dear, dear papa.

His brows drew low over his eyes. His large calloused hand found hers and gripped it tightly. "This is not London, Lizzy. Come see. No one is listening to that fool's blather."

She sucked in a sharp breath. Oh dear, she knew that tone. Wickham was going to face a tongue lashing that would make him wish for the cat. Not that he did not deserve it, of course, but Elizabeth wished she did not have to be witness to it. Papa angry was a fearsome sight. It rarely happened, thankfully, but when it did, she would rather be anywhere else.

Where was Mr. Darcy? She glanced about the room.

"He stepped out with Wickham." Papa shared a knowing glance with Lady Catherine.

"Do not trouble yourself with that now. Mrs. Samuels and Mrs. Henry would much like the opportunity to sit with you a few minutes." Lady Catherine took her arm and led her in.

Instead of the distant knowing stares she had steeled herself for, Elizabeth gazed into eyes glistening with open warmth and welcome. She sat down and was soon embraced in warm conversation and companionship. Wickham, it seemed, was tolerated in their company for Darcy's sake, but his behavior this night was grounds to dismiss him altogether. Miss Vance went so far as to say she hoped Mr. Darcy would ask him to leave. She could abide the company of tradesmen, but was certainly above socializing with servants.

Darcy shut the door slowly, stalling for time to plan his words. "You can have no question as to why I called you away."

"You do not even invite me to sit? You are in a foul mood." Wickham laughed and brushed his lapels. He dropped into a chair near the fireplace and propped his feet on a stool

Darcy stomped toward him. "I did not invite you here tonight to insult my guest and the daughter of your employer."

With a flick of his hand, Wickham brushed the thought aside. "Pish, posh. You have no sense of humor."

"She heard everything you said to young Albertson and found nothing funny there. Nor did Vance and Henry." Darcy folded his arms and glowered down at him.

"If she heard, it was her own fault for eavesdropping. Imagine, hiding behind servants' doors. Do you not find that improper behavior? Yet, I do not see her here being scolded. Perhaps she has learned her lesson though. Such rudeness in a lady, really." Wickham rolled his eyes.

"Her father will have something to say about this and I for one would not relish that conversation."

"Doddering old fool—"

"How dare you speak about—"

"What do you know of him?" Wickham jumped to his feet. "I am the one who must soil my hands with his concerns. Allow me the comfort of recognizing the indignity of it all."

"Indignity? He is an excellent master."

"Yes, _Master_. What would you know; you who never has and never shall toil for another? What would you understand of the humiliation it is to work as a slave—"

"Slave? How can you say such a thing? He is the soul of generosity with you—or have you forgotten I helped negotiate your contract with him? I know exactly the terms of your labor. There are many who would envy the ease of your circumstance." Such ingratitude, such hubris. How had he ever tolerated, much less excused, such disgusting attitudes?

"It makes little difference, generous or not; he is still master and I am but a despicable servant."

"You had the opportunity with Locke to have your own practice, in time, to be respectable in the community."

"Among the lesser classes you mean."

"What do you want, Wickham? What do you think you deserve? Perhaps father was right." Darcy turned his back and leaned on the mantle. How had he called this man friend? He braced his forehead in his hand.

"I am cut to the quick that the man to whom I gave life—"

"No. It was my mother who gave me life."

"But it was I who preserved it so that you might be here, berating me now. I saved it then and not less than once since. How many times have I come to your aid in such small ways that none but you would recognize them? Rescued you from your own shortcomings to make you acceptable to polite society, as you cannot be on your own. Would you have a single man to call you friend were it not for me, easing the way for you, smoothing the offense you cause and drawing attention to your good qualities when all that people see are the bad? And this is how you thank me? Turning me over to—"

"No more." Darcy slammed his hand on the mantle and whirled on Wickham. "I have heard this speech enough and have begun to question the truth in it. Moreover, it does by no means excuse what you have done tonight. I think it best that you should leave now."

"You are throwing me out?"

"I am asking you to leave."

"I never thought would come the day when you could forget what you owe me." Wickham turned aside. "They told me you were like the rest, that I was a fool to save you as I did. But—"

"So you have already said." Darcy huffed. "I have guests to attend to right now and neither time nor stomach to hear this all over again.

"You have changed, Darcy."

"It is time for you to go." He opened the door and signaled the footman who stood just outside. "See Mr. Wickham out."

"Yes, sir."

Though the man's face betrayed no emotion, Darcy was certain there was a pleased glint in his eye.

Wickham tossed his head and sauntered past Darcy, the servant trailing a step behind. Darcy shut the door and pressed his back to the cool wood. Father would have been pleased. He had wanted to remove Wickham from Pemberley several times, but Darcy had always pleaded his friend's case. Why was tonight so different?

Elizabeth.

Or was it—no, it was her. He could have excused Wickham's cavalier treatment of any other. His stomach pinched. Had he truly misjudged Wickham so badly? How much of Wickham's bad manners and disgusting behavior had he demanded his friends and neighbors tolerate? He pressed his fist to his forehead.

No, he could not indulge in this self-recrimination now. He had guests to attend and apologies to make.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Lilting strains from the pianoforte filled the hallway. Darcy hastened to the drawing room. Georgiana was so painfully shy; she rarely played before company. What brought her out tonight? He peeked in the doorway. Miss Elizabeth stood with her, turning the pages. Did the presence of her friend bolster her courage so much?

Or was it Wickham's absence. Did he distress her so much she withdrew? A cold clammy hand clenched around his heart. He had put Wickham's desires above his sister's comfort? Why? It had been so clear just a little while ago, but now it seemed so foreign.

Soft, light notes trailed off. Gentle applause filled the room. Georgiana peeked up, a shy smile and dainty blush decorated her features.

"Will you play another?" Bennet asked.

Georgiana stared at him.

What had she expected—critique? No, most likely she anticipated some ill-mannered tease like Wickham would have offered. Dash it all.

Sitting beside Bennet, Lady Catherine's eyes glittered. Her smile contained so much quiet joy, Darcy swallowed back his guilt. This was how his sister should be treated. He would tolerate no less ever again. The knot in his belly tightened into resolve and shame.

Georgian rose; the pretty flush on her cheeks crept down her neck. "Perhaps after my friends have had an opportunity to play as well. Miss Elizabeth?"

Miss Elizabeth's eyes widened and she took a step back. The look on her face was too much like the one Georgiana usually wore when asked to play. No wonder they took to each other so readily, they were kindred spirits.

Miss Bennet and her father hurried to her side. They conferred a moment.

Bennet glanced at Lady Catherine and jerked his head toward the bookcases. She slipped away and returned with a leather case. She pressed it into Bennet's hands and returned to her seat.

Bennet removed a carved pipe from the case and blew a sweet note. He nodded at his daughters. Elizabeth sat at the pianoforte and played a chord to match his note. The three shared a glance and a nod. Bennet began a haunting melody on his pipe. Miss Elizabeth came in a few lines later, weaving a tight harmony so intriguing Darcy nearly missed Miss Bennet's voice soaring above the instruments in—was that Italian or Latin?

Darcy closed his eyes a moment, listening. Yes, it was Italian. He cracked his eyes open again but saw only Miss Elizabeth, lost in her music, supporting her father and sister, urging their best performance out of them whilst she remained quietly—and contentedly—out of the spotlight. The focus, the intensity of her eyes was wrenchingly lovely, gripping him with a palpable force. He lost himself in the music and the longing. This is what Wickham would try to insult? What a fool he had been. Why had it taken him so long to see?

Loud applause startled him. When had they stopped playing? He clapped. "Please, another."

Eyes turned on him, but the only ones he really noted were Miss Elizabeth's.

She looked at him, then beyond—searching for something, someone. Her brow furrowed and she met his gaze, questions etched in her eyes.

He blinked and nodded just enough that she might notice.

"Girls?" Bennet asked. "Something lively perhaps?"

"Yes, Papa." Jane smiled and leaned down to whisper in Elizabeth's ear.

Miss Elizabeth's fingers danced through the opening lines of a sea shanty. Bennet alternated playing and singing, his voice a rich baritone that harmonized with his daughters' light melodious voices.

Whilst Georgiana was doubtless a more skilled player, Miss Elizabeth brought a light and life to the music that was not unlike what she brought to Pemberley. The halls had been so empty since the Bennets departed for Alston.

More rousing applause ended the song, but Bennet could not be prevailed upon for another. He insisted Miss Vance take their place and play for them.

Poor girl, she could hardly hope to compare with those who had gone before her. She tried to decline, but Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth plied her with sufficient encouragement and Miss Bennet promised to turn pages for her, so she finally capitulated.

His feet were in motion but what would he say to her? He could not stand dumbly and stare at her, though he would have liked nothing better.

"So, Darcy, what did you think of our trio?" Lady Catherine asked, eyes shining.

"Most extraordinary." Darcy tried to catch Miss Elizabeth's eye.

She blushed and peeked up at him. "I am pleased you enjoyed it."

What reaction did she expect form him? "I think you should prepare yourselves. The favor of your performance will be most requested after tonight."

"Such is the hazard of being new in the neighborhood." Bennet said.

"Do not think so meanly of us." Lady Catherine's fan appeared, fluttering gently. "It was a most worthy performance." She glanced at the young woman at the pianoforte, fudging and slurring her way through difficult passages. "Not all are so well favored."

"She needs opportunities to display in order to become truly proficient." Bennet smiled. "The poor girl is so self-conscious." He glanced at Miss Elizabeth, eyebrow raised.

She ducked from his gaze.

"I do believe we have some additional music in the armoire there. Do help me see if we have something more appropriate for Miss Vance to entertain us with." Lady Catherine pointed with her fan.

"As you wish, madam." Bennet gestured for her to precede him.

They slipped away, discussing the music they hoped to find.

Darcy stared after them. "The pieces you played tonight were entirely new to me. I enjoyed them very much."

"They are among Papa's favorites." She turned toward him.

Their eyes met. If only his lips would form words. Did she understand this power she had over him? "I understand why." He licked his lips. "Please allow me to apologize."

"Excuse me?" She cocked her head.

He offered her his arm.

She took it and followed him to a large open bay window that offered a modicum of privacy.  
"I heard what Mr. Wickham said in the hall. I know you, most unfortunately, overheard. I am without words to apologize for him."

"He is responsible for his deeds, not you."

"But I invited him when I should not have. He does not belong in this company. I…I asked him to leave and will not include him in future gatherings."

Her eyes widened. "I do not know what to say. But your friendship with him—"

"Perhaps it has run its course and it is time for new friendships." He took her hand and raised it to his lips.

Miss Bennet nudged Fitzwilliam with her elbow and pointed her chin toward the bay window.

"Good on him." Fitzwilliam tried to restrain his eager grin. "The footman told me he threw Wickham out. About blood—" He sucked in a sharp breath. "Excuse me."

Jane snorted delicately. "I have all my life been surrounded by military men. If I were to wilt at the first sign of blue language, I would surely have faded away entirely by now." The corner of her lips twitched in the most enticing manner.

"I do not make a habit to use such coarseness in the presence of ladies, but on such occasions as I have so erred -" his grin burst free. She must think him a fool, but it did not really matter, so long as she smiled on him. " - I have never encountered a reaction such as yours."

"I suppose I could work myself up to take offense, if it would please you." She tipped her face up and teased him with her eyes.

"So you desire to please me, Miss Bennet?" He inclined his head and winked.

"If it would please you." Her eyebrows flashed upwards.

"It would."

"So then, I should be offended to please you?"

He blinked and shook his head. "Certainly not."

"So it would displease you, if I should try to please you?"

"No, no—"

"Then you would be offended should I displease you—"

He threw up his hands. "Stop, enough—I confess I have met my match—"

She gasped.

"Ah, a weakness in her armor." He made no attempt to hide his smile. "So the idea does not displease you?"

"I am not offended by it." Her lips teased, but her eyes—oh, her eyes were entirely serious and just a bit vulnerable.

"I would certainly never dream of offending you."

Her breath hitched as their eyes locked. This was a face he could stare into for the rest of his life. "Know you if your father has plans to be away from the house tomorrow?"

"As I understand, he was to meet with Mr. Wickham tomorrow. I expect he would appreciate some pleasant company, should you care to bestow it." Her lovely chest heaved—her breath as rapid as his.

"In that case, I shall and look most forward to the interview.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

The following morning, Darcy relaxed in his study, savoring his coffee and memories of the previous evening. He turned it over and over in his mind to be sure it was not some half-remembered dream.

She returned his regard, even as she refused to shrink from voicing her opinion. What fire, what assurance and strength!. Anne, so broken by her father's disdtain and the desperation of their circumstances, had been far too grateful to him to ever question or challenge him. In many regards, he could not bring himself to complain. There had been few cross words between them and his decisions were never questioned. But something was missing. Anne never challenged him to be more than he was, to think differently, to see through other eyes. Oh, for such a challenge! Miss Elizabeth would offer it in spades. He might come to regret it, but the appeal was undeniable. He chuckled and reached for a bit of pound cake he had scavenged from the kitchen.

_Rap. Rap. Rap._

What a beastly hour to bother a man. That was not Mrs. Reynold's knock, nor his man's. Who had the audacity to demand him before the rest of the household even rose? "Come."

Wickham peeked in.

Of course. Darcy dropped his cake and brushed his hands over his plate.

Wickham shouldered the door open and sauntered in. "May I trouble you for a few moments?"

Darcy flicked his hand. "Sit down. It is a bit early for you, is it not?" He sounded cross, even in his own ears, but it was the truth and could hardly be helped.

"We left on such an unpleasant note yesterday, I thought it best not to allow it to linger." Wickham slipped into the leather chair across from the desk.

All the pleasant warmth of his earlier thoughts drained away. Not all the memories of the evening were so agreeable. Darcy's shoulders knotted and he forced his scowl into something less irritable.

"Still have not forgiven me, I see. Really, that is not like you, must unbecoming, really." Wickham crossed his legs. Hands laced behind his head, he leaned into the upholstery. "You have allowed that Bennet woman to discomfit you. I am surprised."

Darcy wrapped his hand around his still warm coffee cup. The delicate china quivered in his grasp. Mrs. Reynolds would be displeased it if he crushed it and coffee spilt over his desk.

"You have always been so…so…temperate where women are concerned."

"You imply it is preferable to toy with a young lady's affections."

"I am wounded." Wickham laid his hand over his heart. "Just because I have enjoyed the company of numerous ladies—and they mine."

"I have no desire to discuss your illicit encounters."

Wickham laughed.

The sound left a bitter taste in Darcy's mouth.

"You never have had such an encounter? Surely you take me for a fool. You are a man as much as I."

"You will not cast aspersions upon my character."

"You deny you have had an agreeable liaison to or two? I am surprised, considering Anne's disposition, and it has been many years since…it makes one wonder—"

Darcy slapped his desk.

"My, you are testy this morning. You cannot tolerate a wee bit of jest."

"If you came merely to torment me, you best leave. I have no patience for it today. You know the way out."

Wickham dropped his foot to the floor. "I see. I came only to do you a favor. You should know by now I am always looking out for your best interests."

Not long ago, Darcy had believed that assertion. Had it always sounded so ingratiating and self-serving? He rubbed his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Perhaps a bit of coffee might rid him of the foul flavor. "Tell me, or leave. I am in no temper to play games with you."

Wickham's shoulder's shoulders' slumped and his mouth puckered into a frown. "Very well then, I came to warn you about Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

Darcy dropped his cup onto its saucer. The clatter rang through the room.

Wickham's lips turned up sharply. "I am sorry to bear such information, but I would be no friend to you were I to keep it to myself."

Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose. "I do not—"

"Of course you do not wish to hear me speak about your favorite, but you must listen. I cannot allow you—"

Darcy half-rose in his seat. "Allow me? You cannot allow me? When did you become master over me?"

"Calm down, old friend. Look at yourself. She has already affected you. Whenever have you had such a reaction to me?"

Never. Perhaps it had been too long in coming. Had Wickham always been so insufferable?

"You have heard Miss Elizabeth was cruelly treated by the _ton_ and, like a true gentleman, you believed it. I contacted several of my friends to learn the truth. They have told me that she was treated so with good reason. When her wanton ways came to light, good society had little choice but to censure her. She brought it upon herself."

Darcy charged around the desk, barely stopping himself before he grabbed Wickham by his cravat. "You have stooped to new lows. I will hear no more."

Wickham scrambled to his feet and ducked behind the chair. "I..I would not have believed it myself, if I had not witnessed it firsthand."

Darcy stopped short, panting slightly.

"One morning, while I was working in Admiral Bennet's office, she entered and threw herself at me. She begged me to—no,t I cannot bring myself to share such things. Suffice to say, I was like Joseph in Potiphar's house. What could I do? I pushed her away and fled."

"You expect me to belief believe that flight of fancy?"

Wickham reached into his pocket and paused, as if considering whether to reveal his secret. He pressed a small pair of scissors and a key, both clearly broken from a woman's chatelaine, into Darcy's hand. "The chains entangled in the buttons of my coat when I pushed her away."

Darcy glanced at the objects. They matched Miss Bennet's. The hair on the back of his neck prickled.

"You do not believe me?"

"I cannot. It makes no sense. Why would she throw herself on you?"

Wickham stood straighter and pulled his shoulders back, though he kept the leather wingback between them. "You think me not good enough for her? I am too poor, too low, to be of interest to a woman of quality, particularly when there is a prize like _you_ to be had?"

Darcy's eyes bulged. "How dare you speak of a gentlewoman—"

Finally Wickham revealed the truth and it was as bitter and ugly as the things he hads said of Miss Elizabeth the night before. What a deceived fool Darcy had been.

"I did not have to bring this to your notice, you know. I could have left you to pursue her, believing all her smiles and coy looks were reserved for you along alone, all the while she was inviting me to her bed."

Darcy pug dug his nails into his palms, fists quivering for a target. "Out. ! Get out!" He pointed toward the door, panting to hold back his rage.

Wickham hesitated.

Darcy snarled and stomped forward.

Wickham dashed for the door.

"Do not return without an invitation. I will inform the staff."

"You are casting me out? Am I to believe I am banished from my boyhood—"

"This was never your home. You shunned your father's house, but that did not make Pemberley yours. Now go, or I will assist you out."

Wickham slipped out and slammed the door behind him.

Eyes still on the door, Darcy lowered himself into his chair. He hands shook, denied their desire to be wrapped around Wickham's throat. He stared at the items Wickham pressed on him, fixed upon the broken chains that dangled limply over his fingers.

What had Wickham done to acquire them? If he had laid a hand— but no, surely Miss Elizabeth would not have kept such an assault on her person to herself. Bennet would have killed Wikcham as soon as look at him, if that had been the case. Or Piper would have slit Wickham's throat in his sleep.

Then how? Surely there were a thousand ways he could come by such things that did not involve as an attack upon Miss Elizabeth. The one thing he was certain off was that Miss Elizabeth had not thrown herself at him. She could barely tolerate Wickham and she was entirely too frank in her deportment—no, that was simply not possible.

He dropped his hand onto the desk. It landed on the cake. Disgusted, he pushed the plate away. He might never be able to abide the look of the stuff again. He dragged his hand down his face, but even that did not dispel the haunting images of Wickham importuning Miss Elizabeth from his mind.

This would not do. He had to see her, assure himself of her wellbeing. Then he would talk to the Admiral. Heaven alone knew what he would say, but they definitely needed to talk.

Midmorning sun streamed through the study window. Shadows played along the carpet and climbed up Bennet's chair. He drummed his fingers on his desk. "I expected you much earlier."

Piper stood at his shoulder, just behind Bennet, looking for all the world as though he were not paying attention at all. Several unfortunate men assumed that posture meant Piper was not attending to their antics. They only made that mistake once.

Bennet waved his hand sharply. "Do not linger like a fool there in the doorway, come in."

"I had no idea you wished me here first thing this morning." Wickham sauntered in and sat close to the imposing oak desk. "I had to attend Darcy before I came."

"I hardly believe that. I expect your understanding is far better than you admit." Under the table, Bennet's left hand tightened until it cramped. "And how did he compel you? Is he your master?"

"No, he is not. He is my friend—you are my _Master_." The word lingered on Wickham's tongue, a curse uttered in only the rarest circumstances.

Bennet stole a quick glance at Piper.

His scarred eyelid tightened. Blue veins in his neck stood out, throbbing.

Bennet shook his head a fraction. Unfortunately, the time would come for that, but it would be later.

Wickham dipped his head and smiled a very false smile. "I am here now. What may I do for you?"

"You may begin by explaining yourself." Bennet's brows knotted.

"Pardon me? I do not have the pleasure of understanding you."

"If you continued this game, that is not the only pleasure you will soon be deprived of." Bennet snorted, and dropped his elbows on his desk. Fingers laced, he leaned forward. "I do not know what kind of man you are accustomed to dealing with, but I am neither fooled by your prevarications nor do I find them amusing. You may find your _friend_ tolerant of them, I am not." Bennet glowered, an expression that had withered many a young seaman. "I recommend you keep that in your mind. I will have no more of it."

Wickham's right eye twitched. He straightened his back and squared his shoulders. "I see, sir. I shall keep that in mind."

"See that you do. Now, explain yourself."

"What am I to explain?"

Bennet grumbled deep in his throat. The rawest landsman would never have dared behave thus. He slammed the heel of his hand onto the desk. "Last night! And if you pretend not to understand me, Piper will throw you out on your bloody arse."

Wickham jumped.

Good, he was not entirely senseless. Not entirely.

"You cannot possibly hold a few idle words against me." Wickham laughed a thin, watery sound.

"Indeed? Exactly how do you figure that? I consider a man's words the ultimate judge of his character. Judged by every idle word...out of the overflow of the heart… and all that."

Wickham's rolled his eyes. "You sound like a Sunday morning vicar."

"I have not noticed you warming a pew Sunday mornings to be able to tell what a vicar sounds like."

"I heard all the sermons read as a boy. I have no need to hear them again." Wickham shrugged. He leaned back in his chair.

"I have yet to meet a man who has not needed to be reminded—often."

"As you say, sir." Wickham's lips curled in what could only be considered a sneer.

Piper sprang across the desk and grabbed Wickham by the collar. "What place had you to be talking about Miss Lizzy that way?"

Wickham barely blinked.

Bennet's eyebrows rose. No upright man remained so calm in the face of Piper's fury. He had been sorely deceived in Wickham's character.

"I certainly meant no offense by any of it."

Piper tightened his grip. Wickham's face flushed. He slapped at Piper's fist.

"How do you suppose that?" Piper snarled.

Bennet rose and leaned close to Wickham's face. "Under what circumstances do you believe your words might not have been offensive to a Lady–or her father?"

Piper shook Wickham until his teeth rattled. He quickly released his hold.

Wickham stumbled. "I…I…" He rubbed his throat. "I had not considered under what circumstances it might. In actuality, it is all in how you look at things." His voice shifted into a light, cheery note, apparently to compliment the affected smile that crept across his lips.

Wickham was lucky Piper did not remove that smile with the back of his hand.

Wickham straightened his collar and cravat. "If one wishes to find offense, one will find it in all manner of places. I had not thought you that variety of man whose thin skin would lead him to—"

"Stop! This is not about me or my daughter. We have nothing to defend. Do not turn this about."

"I was merely pointing out—"

Bennet pounded the desk with his fist. "No, you may cease your useless prattle now. There is no further need for any of it. You are accustomed to fooling men and swaying them to see things your way. You have done it from the cradle, I would say. No doubt your mother had you in leading strings and you told her where to lead you." Bennet slipped around the desk and stood very close to Wickham. Close enough to smell the growing ill-ease in the rude, self-important little man. "You have fooled Darcy into thinking you are his friend for far too long. He is a good man and has stood by you because of that." He tapped Wickham's chest hard. "You should have been grateful for his friendship and all the favors that have been lavished upon you because of it."

"Favors? You do not know what you are talking about."

"What do you consider your education? A right because you did some sort of good turn for him once?"

"I saved his life."

"And Piper saved mine." Bennet glanced at Piper who edged closer. "It did not entitle him to impose upon me or my family."

"Then what is he doing here, enjoying the—"

Piper pounced, but Bennet was a hair faster. He grabbed Wickham just behind the jaw, toes lifted barely off the carpet. "Piper is my friend—one to whom I entrust everything and everyone most dear to me. Unlike you, he has proven his friendship." He lowered Wickham to the floor and released him.

"I proved myself to Darcy well enough. He would have been an outcast in school without me to make his way for him. I made him—"

"No, you convinced him—and maybe yourself—that you did. His station and his connections and, most importantly, his character made his way. A few introductions do not a social standing make. He owes you nothing—and probably less than. Does he know how you laugh at him behind closed doors and mock him to those beneath his station?"

"I do not—"

"You may be surprised at how little loyalty your comrades hold. Unlike Darcy, who should have had you out when you tried to convince his sister—"

"That is no business of yours!" Wickham lunged.

Bennet side-stepped. These last years on land had not stolen his agility after all.

Wickham stumbled and threw his hands out to catch himself on the desk.

"And you have no further business of mine. Good day, Mr. Wickham."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard and understood well enough. You are dismissed and I want you out of the cottage immediately."

"You have not paid—"

Bennet snorted. "Your salary, I know. But _you_ have not paid rent. Considering the meals you have taken here, the supplies Hill noted you removing from my pantries …" He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. "Let me see, candles, a bucket of coal - no that is two buckets, soap, beer, bread … shall I go on? All told, I believe you _owe_ me for your upkeep at this point."

Wickham shuffled back. "That is absurd."

"You did not take these things? Shall I have Piper go to the cottage to check?"

"Ah—no…"

"So then you believed them your due? Part of your salary, I suppose?"

"No…"

"Good, because that was quite clearly spelled out in your contract. So then, why did you supply yourself from my kitchens? I know, you must have considered it a gift." Bennet folded his arms and drummed his fingers along his shoulder. "I imagine you are accustomed to supplying yourself from Pemberley's larder and just assumed the privilege would be extended here as well."

"Yes, that is— "

"Rot and you and I both know it. Moreover, I doubt that Darcy knew what you were about either. You are a thief." Bennet stomped.

Wickham jumped and looked over his shoulder. "How dare you!"

"If you are not out of that cottage and off my property by sundown today, I will bring the magistrate what remains of the thief who has imposed himself on my family. Do I make myself clear?" Bennet reached for where his sword should have been.

Wickham scrambled back. "Abundantly, sir."

"Show him out."

"Aye, sir." Piper grabbed Wickham's upper arms, dragged him from the office, and shut the door behind him.

Bennet sank into his chair and pinched his temples. Lizzy would be pleased—and relieved. She had never approved of Wickham in the first place. He should have listened to her. She had her mother's sense about people. At least she would be gracious in her victory. That was some small consolation.


	22. Chapter 22

**For those of you who may be interested, Darcy's Decision is currently free on Amazon kindle through Saturday Apr 27, 2013. It will not be offered free again.**

**Chapter 22**

Whatever Piper had done with the boys the night before rendered them so exhausted they slept well past their usual time. Perhaps Piper should consider a career as a governess, Elizabeth chuckled, as she fastened her day dress. The look he would give her for saying such a thing would frighten most grown men. He was such a dear man. What would Papa do without him?

She sat at her dressing table and unraveled her braid. Her maid would scold her for pinning it up herself, but she relished a few moments of quiet, particularly after last night. The silver-handled hairbrush skidded from her fingers and clacked against the table. Eyes shut, she threw her head back. How to make sense of it all?

Wickham was no surprise. He behaved exactly as she expected he would. Just like the fops and dandies of the _Ton_, he sought to be approved because of his appearance and resented anyone who looked further than that.

The surprise lay in everyone else. Not one of Darcy's guests had agreed with Wickham or even humored his ill manners. They displayed their displeasure with him most openly. He had no supporters here. Perhaps it was their past experiences with Wickham that colored their reactions. Even so, it left her warm and welcome, something she never expected to feel again. Derbyshire was definitely growing on her.

And Mr. Darcy—her breath hitched and she pressed her hand to her chest. He surprised her most of all when he removed Mr. Wickham on her account. Heat bloomed across her cheeks. The mirror revealed the spreading pink stain. She fanned her face with her hand, laughing at the resemblance to Lady Catherine.

The looks he had given her—even Jane commented on them. How they giggled over that last night! But the weight of it all hit her now. It seemed like he really liked her, the way Papa liked Lady Catherine. She swallowed back the nameless feeling that threatened to break her composure and pinch off her breath.

Was it possible? Though she had proclaimed she had neither need nor interest in marriage, the truth was much more complex. She dared not believe it possible and so shut it away so that it might not hurt. But now, here it was, staring at her in the very light of day.

Yet, she could not forget; Mr. Darcy already had a family. David and George were very dear boys; so much like the twins, she was already excessively fond of them. Would he want more children?

She tucked a final pin in her hair. Her child—oh, had she actually thought that? She pinched the bridge of her nose. If she bore him a son, he would never be Darcy's heir.

An empty place opened in her heart. Her son, consigned to the same trials and hardships Papa had faced. His horrible brother Collins manipulated and stole, undermining Papa's every attempt to become a gentleman until all Papa could do was break with the family, giving up even the family name to take his mother's. Could she live with that reality?

What was she thinking? Darcy was nothing like the Collinses nor would he teach his sons to be so. He had gone beyond mere duty in rescuing Lady Catherine and her daughter from Sir Lewis. His cousin enjoyed an easy relationship with him and appeared most welcome at Pemberley. He would treat his children with no less favor. Surely with Pemberley and Rosings and her dowry, there would be some kind of legacy for other children. He would not see his children go without. But still—

She pushed herself up. Enough reflection; if she hurried, she could still take her morning walk before attending to the household.

Sunrise was well past; hints of sticky heat flew on the gentle breeze. Thin clouds shielded the sun, but it would not last. The afternoon would be quite warm. She needed to check the gardens—

She turned down the path to the first of the kitchen gardens. What was that sound? She ran the last few steps. Pigs! No—the piglets were loose in the garden!

She shouted for the boys who worked with the gardener. Glad for sturdy boots and an old dress, she dashed after the nearest piglet. There was a knack to catching the creatures. One she had not quite acquired.

Amusing a diversion as it was, it soon lost all novelty and her temper grew short. She had finally found a creature less mindful than her brothers.

By the time the piglets were returned to their pens, her good humor had gone the way of her gown, soaked in mud and sweat, and sporting not a few tears. But, bless it all, she would have her walk this morning—she had earned it. She huffed a deep breath, straightened her bonnet and retied its ribbons. A final instruction to the gardener and she was off.

The joys of country life—still it was better than being in London. Perhaps now she would find some quiet.

"Miss Elizabeth!"

No—no, not him! Not now, not in her current dishabille.

"Miss Elizabeth?" Mr. Wickham smirked and sniggered under his breath. He bowed and tipped his hand. "You look quite remarkable this morning."

"It is no concern of yours, sir." She tipped her head and tried to step around him.

He sidled over and blocked her way. "I am merely concerned for my employer's daughter. It is not like you to be so…casually attired. Quite improperly exposed as well." His gaze caressed her neck and slid down along the neckline of her gown to spots on her bosom where tears revealed her chemise.

Horrible, vile creature. She pulled her shawl snugly over her chest and knotted it. Her eyes creased into narrow slits. Arms folded over her chest, she slipped back. He was far too close.

His right eye twitched; his cheek jumped in time. The same corner of his mouth drifted up.

Piper would not have hesitated to slap that thought out of his mind. If only she could do it herself. "You are either a bad liar or a fool. Papa sacked you this morning and you best leave Alston lest he find you here. Whatever threat he offered, I assure you, he means in its entirety."

"How would you know any of that?"

"What matter is it to you?"

Wickham's lip curled. "It would seem you have a great deal of sway with him."

"I am honored that he would seek my opinion in some matters." She stepped backwards and slid her hand into her pocket. Her fingers trembled as she wrapped them around the cold hard weight of her knife. She flicked open the blade, heart pulsing so hard she felt it in every limb.

He stomped forward. "It was you who advised him—"

"No, he did that of his own accord."

"But you did not advise him against it."

Her eyes darted about. The trees to his left closed off that route, but there was an opening to his right. She reached behind her. A beastly large tree rose behind her. "That is no concern of yours."

He covered the distance between them in two steps. "Oh, but I think it is. You should reconsider your recommendations to him—immediately."

She withdrew her hand from her pocket and slipped it behind her back. "I think not."

"You will regret the consequences, if you do not. Look at you, common as a barber's chair, a little bit of brimstone come to the neighborhood." He spat at her feet.

Her face flamed. Had this been the first time she had heard such a description of herself, she might have broken, but the _ton_ had given her the mettle for men of Wickham's ilk.

"I have already been to Darcy this morning to give him proof of your wanton ways—"

"You have nothing."

"You forget: a piece of your chatelaine broke off when you threw yourself at me begging for me to blow off the groundsils with you. Gentleman that I am, I ran off, leaving you untouched."

Never before had she been thankful for hearing such rot in London. The abuse had lost its sting and its ability to render her speechless. "You are a bad liar."

He shrugged. "Darcy believed me. In fact, he thanked me most profusely for the intelligence and intends to keep his distance lest you entrap him in marriage."

She gasped. Surely he would not, he could not believe—

Wickham towered over her, his face so close that his fetid breath burned her eyes. "Petition your father to restore my position or I will poison the entire neighborhood against you."

She tightened her grip on the hilt. "No one here cares a jot what you have to say or have you forgotten their responses to you last night?"

"Then I suppose you will have to marry me." He grabbed the front of her dress and wrenched the weakened fabric.

The muslin cried out and shredded under his hand. She whipped her knife hand around and buried the blade into his hand.

He howled and released her.

She pelted down the path, barely seeing where she went; a string of epithets fit for a sailor followed her. Branches snapped at her face and tore her bonnet back. She stumbled and pitched forward, catching herself a long a tree trunk. Panting hard, she looked up and screamed.

"Dear God, Elizabeth!" Darcy sprang from his horse and ran the last few steps to her, Fitzwilliam on his heels.

Branches snapped in his face, determined to keep him from her. He slapped them, growling under his breath. He could not get to her quickly enough. She was splattered with mud and was that—yes it was … blood!. His guts knotted. Her dress was torn, face scratched and hair disheveled. Cold pooled in his belly, aching, dreading. He skidded to a stop before her.

"Are you injured? What happened?" He huffed the words through heavy pants.

She blinked several times. Did she not recognize him?

"Mr. Darcy? Colonel?" Her voice was more a plea for help than a greeting.

"What happened, Miss Elizabeth?" Fitzwilliam asked over Darcy's shoulder.

Her gown gaped open, revealing the lace of her chemisette. Darcy stripped off his coat. He draped it over her shoulders and pulled it tight around her. "You are bleeding."

She looked down at her hands and shook her head. "No—it is not mine—it is Wickham's."

Ten heartbeats passed.

"Where?"

She pointed.

Fitzwilliam dashed for his horse. "Stay with her—no, get her back to the house. I will deal with him." He urged his horse into a trot and rode away in the direction she had pointed.

She clutched Darcy's coat to her. "I did not—he grabbed me—used my knife."

He flexed his hands into fists. "I will see him run out of the county for this. I cannot tell you how sorry I am that I introduced him to your family."

She looked up at him with eyes wide and vulnerable, so very vulnerable. "You did not believe him—what he told you this morning?"

He gasped. "No, heavens no!"

Her eyes filled with tears and she choked on a sob.

Bennet might have his hide for it, but dash it all—He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight into his chest. She nestled into his shoulder and shuddered. He stroked her back, willing his hand gentle while his belly roiled. What had Wickham done?

"Papa dismissed him this morning," she whispered. "He petitioned me to change Papa's mind."

Darcy grumbled under his breath. 'Petitioned' was a most politic choice of words. "A most unlikely possibility under the best of circumstances."

"Indeed."

His embrace tightened. "You struggled with him?"

She pulled back and peeked up at him. A little of the light returned to her eyes. "Thankfully, no, not very much. Most of the damage can be attributed to a litter of piglets loose in the garden." She giggled into his chest. "I think I detest piglets right now."

"Truly? But the blood?"

"Papa insists Jane and I always carry a knife. Not a little lady's pen knife, but a proper one. When Wickham grabbed for me, I already had it in my hand. I lodged it in his hand, I think, considering the way he howled. Papa will be most vexed I have lost it." She giggled again, but it was a hollow shadow of her normally rich, joyful sound.

"I hardly think that will be his first concern." He tucked her head under his chin and pressed her cheek with his hand. "I am relieved you are uninjured. I could never forgive myself had he harmed you." Could she hear how loudly his heart thundered?

"The worst harm is to my gown." She snorted. "Thankfully, I never particularly liked this one. There was little enough left to salvage after the piglets."

"None of that changes the fact he threatened you."

She nodded against his hand. "He seemed to think he could force Papa to make us marry."

"Fool." A growl rumbled through his chest. "He certainly does not know your father. I expect Piper might kill him first, unless your father preceded him."

"He is in very great danger, although he does not know it yet. Piper is every bit as protective as Papa and without so many scruples. Even here, he has a host of unsavory connections. I am afraid Papa encourages that as well. He says that it is always worthwhile to have a rogue or two on your side in a squall."

He envied Bennet resources. Fitzwilliam was still much more genteel. "I have no doubt. But I cannot object. His motives are most pleasing."

"I am sorry. I know you believed Mr. Wickham to be more like Piper than the blackguard he is."

"I am sorely disappointed in his character."

She huddled closer. What joy to have her seeking comfort in him.

"Forgive me for asking, but why did you ever trust him when the signs of his duplicity are so clear?" she whispered.

"Clear to you, who are a sterling judge of character, but not so to myself, who finds the circumstances far more muddied by past events and conversations." Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, who would not let him go unchallenged, even in a moment like this. Who else would so faithfully hold him accountable?

Surely she would pull away feeling the dreadful impropriety of their situation. But mercifully, she did not. He relished the warmth of her lithe form pressed to him, able to feel each rise and fall of her breath. If he held her long enough, he might be able to hear her thoughts as well. Would that they could stay here that long.

She wrung her hands. "Do you know how he came to have the pieces of my chatelaine?"

He craned his neck and peered into her face. "I know you did not throw yourself upon him as he claimed."

"Is that what he told you?" She shuddered. "I was right. He is a dreadful liar."

"It was rather egregious considering your reaction to him from the start. But he has always seen himself more attractive to the ladies than he actually is. Ladies of good sense and breeding invariably see through his façade far too soon for his liking. He has been thrown off more than once. I do not introduce him to ladies anymore." How could he have ever done that in the first place?

"Good thing that. I pity the heiress who loses her fortune to him and then is stuck with his name and children ever after."

"So how did he come by your scissors and key?" He produced them from his pocket and pressed them into her hand, loathing the loss of something so close to her.

"He ran into me in the hallway and we took a spectacular fall. I found my scissors and two keys missing and no amount of searching turned them up. We moved all the furniture in the hall to no avail. I despaired of ever finding them. I am embarrassed to admit I never considered him capable of the sleight of hand that would allow him to steal them so effectively."

"What of the key you are still missing?"

"I think that is the key to Papa's strongbox. Papa has the other one. He will be most displeased to know its whereabouts."

"I know an excellent locksmith—one I did not grow up with." His lips turned up in a half-smile.

She giggled. "I am certain he will value your recommendation."

"I am honored he would still hear me and perhaps trust me."

"I am not so certain I would go so far as that. But you might earn his trust yet. That is, if you find it a worthwhile endeavor." She blinked and bit her upper lip.

"How might that be accomplished?"

"Papa is not one to hold a grudge, you know. Besides, you were here to rescue me. That will please him."

"But does it please you?" He laced his fingers in hers, an intimacy so intense it was almost too much to bear without a kiss.

How would that look to Bennet?

How did that look to him?

He had barely kissed Anne. Theirs was more a friendship based on duty—passion had little place in their cordial relationship. Their relations were pleasant enough—for him. How had Anne felt about them? She never told him. But passion, all that the Bard wrote of, was foreign to him until now.

Now, he held the embodiment of all things to be desired—beauty, wit, charm, affection and worth. He burned with a longing he once believe impossible. He lifted her hand, so warm in his, to his lips and kissed it.

"I…" her voice hitched and quivered with her hand. "I am very pleased." Her dark, sparkling eyes peeked up. A flicker of kindred passion glimmered beneath her lashes.

Lightening shot through his spine and he could not breathe. His hand slipped up to cup her cheek and tip her face up to his. Summoning every fragment of self control, he gently pressed his lips to hers. Was this her first kiss?

It may as well have been his.

So sweet, an intoxicating nectar. He could never drink enough.

Her breath tickled his cheek with short, shallow flutterings, tentative and shy. She was on unfamiliar ground as much as he.

The moment ended too soon. He pulled back enough to cradle her head under his chin.

"I…I do not know what to say," he whispered. "Need I apologize?"

"No."

He heard the dear, wry, little smile she wore.

"May I speak to your father?"

"I hardly think you have an option. There is no hiding anything from Papa. One look and he will know." She turned in his arms to look at him. "His fondness for Lady Catherine will be to your material advantage, I think." The spark returned to her eyes and demanded another kiss.

He obliged.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Bennet grumbled under his breath and raked his hair for the hundredth time. It was always a risk, taking on a man with a bothersome past. Sometimes it worked in one's favor and other times— He cleared his throat and shook his head. Why would this have to be one of those times when both his neighbors and his daughter were involved? Taking a risk was one thing, but others being harmed by that risk was entirely another.

He tipped his chair back and stared at the ceiling. Lady Catherine had warned him just as Lizzy had and he was too bloody stubborn to take heed. Lady Ellen would be scolding him now if she could see. And she would be right. He puffed a breath through his cheeks. Impatience never served him well.

Now that Wickham was gone, he could begin again - and this time, listen to his advisors. Alston was a sound estate. If they could just make it through this year, it would become a legacy he could pass to his heir. He rubbed his temples.

"Papa! Papa!" Francis caught himself in the doorway of the study, panting.

Philip skidded into him, knocking them both pell-mell across the carpet into a heap like a pile of puppies.

Philip propped himself up on his elbows. "Mr. Darcy is bringing Lizzy to the house on his horse!"

"They are riding together!" Francis climbed out from under his brother. "That is not proper, is it father?"

"Will Lizzy be in trouble?" Phillip bounced to his feet.

"What's this? Stuff and nonsense—" Bennet pushed himself to his feet.

"It is true." George poked his head in. "We saw them."

David nodded energetically. "She is wearing Papa's coat but I do not understand why. It is not cold."

Francis ran to the window and pointed. "Her hair is all rumbled and her bonnet is missing."

Bennet's amusement vanished. Icy knots tied his guts so tightly he could not breathe, much less speak. Two wives and a daughter had already been torn from him. Not again—surely not again. He sprinted across the room and leapt over the boys and into the hall. By the time he was at the front door, Piper had arrived and ran at his side.

Darcy's horse stopped just as they reached the bottom of the front steps. Lizzy perched awkwardly in front of Darcy, in a posture anything but proper - in that, the boys were right. Hang propriety, something was profoundly wrong.

"Lizzy!" Bennet reached for her.

"I am well, Papa." She slid off into his arms, clutching Darcy's coat tightly around her.

He cupped her cheek in his palm, his heart crashing against his chest in storming waves. "No you are not. Who did this?"

She sniffed and the corner of her lips rose a bit. "Mostly it was the piglets—"

The four boys tumbled from the front door, elbowing one another and shouting.

"Piglets?" Francis squealed. He fought to get past Piper's arms.

"Yes, they got loose this morning." She craned her neck to look at them. "You four should go and check and make sure they are still secured. Then you might help the gardener make repairs to the garden."

"May we, papa?" George asked with far greater solemnity than his bouncing suggested.

Darcy slid off his horse waved them on. "Go ahead, all of you."

Bennet nodded and bit his tongue while they hurried away. Lizzy shivered in his arms. He pulled back, placed his hands over hers and gently pulled the coat back. "The piglets did not do this." And he would kill the man who did.

"No, sir."

"Wickham?" His hands tightened around hers.

She closed her eyes and nodded. Her chin quivered just enough to break his heart. He wrapped the coat around her and pulled her to his chest. He caught Piper's eyes over her head.

Piper's eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. Wickham had crossed the wrong family.

"Perhaps it would be best to go inside." Darcy gestured toward the front door.

Bennet grunted and released Lizzy enough that she could walk. Hill met them at the door. The creases in her brow betrayed her alarm. She bustled Lizzy upstairs.

Bennet stood at the base of the stairs, staring after her. His hands flexed into fists. Piper tapped his shoulder and jerked his head toward the study. Bennet stalked off. Darcy followed.

"I saw him off the estate sir. Followed him halfway to Lambton just to be sure." Piper gripped the back of the wingback chair, cording his arms as he did.

Bennet growled and slammed his fist on his desk. He wanted to blame Darcy, punish him for his friend's actions. Decades of hard won self-control asserted itself. "I had an interview with him this morning. He said he saw you before he came to me."

Bennet sat, Darcy followed. Piper leaned against the edge of the desk.

"He did come to me, I thought he might apologize for—last night." Darcy raked his hair. "He did not. He sought to poison me against… your family. I threw him out and told him never to return."

"I dismissed him as well." Bennet ran his knuckles along his jaw.

"Desperate men." Piper muttered. He crossed his arms over his chest and glanced out the window.

"Did you see—"

"No, I came upon her after she escaped him. He intended to compromise her and force a marriage."

Bennet snorted. "It would serve him right if I did. She'd cut off his bollocks before he got to use 'em ."

"I believe she nearly did." Darcy chuckled. "She is by no means defenseless."

"Good thing too, though she should have slit the bloody bastard's throat." Piper pushed off the desk and paced across the room. "I will finish the task for her, I will."

"If the wound she dealt him festers, it would be greater punishment to let him suffer with it." Darcy muttered. "It is a rare woman who can keep her head under such a circumstance."

"I saw too much whilst at sea to allow my girls—or my wives to remain defenseless in my absence."

Darcy pressed his fist to his lips, but a snicker still escaped.

"You find humor in that?" Bennet half rose, leaning over his desk.

Darcy started and jumped back. "Forgive me. Not at all. I merely pictured you trying to teach Lady Catherine to use a knife."

Bennet huffed and tossed his head. "I would do no such thing."

Darcy's brows rose.

"A knife is not a fitting weapon for her. In the orient, there are those who use a fan as a weapon. I have already written a friend to procure one for me." Bennet glanced at Piper who grinned menacingly.

"You cannot be serious."

"I rarely joke."

Darcy rubbed his chest. "She is vicious enough with the one she has now. I will not have such a thing in my house."

Bennet stood up straighter and parked his hands on his hips. "No matter, she will not be living there when I give it to her."

Darcy deflated slightly. "Your daughter insisted your intentions toward her were honorable, though you have taken liberties with Lady Catherine that, strictly speaking, are improper."

"You would call me improper? Given the position I just found you in with my daughter, I should be asking you of _your_ intentions." Bennet frowned.

Darcy swallowed hard. "I hope to convince you to permit me to court her."

Their eyes locked. Darcy did not back down. Good, but not good enough. "Your marriage was not so felicitous as my own. I want better for my daughter."

"You understand, I am sure, why I married Anne … out of duty, not love. I was faithful to her in marriage and in friendship, but we were too dissimilar and she far too grateful to me for more than that. But your daughter—"

Bennet waved him off. "I know she is different to other women. You think you are the first man to come to me and that I have not heard this before?"

Darcy's jaw dropped open.

"At least I can be reassured you do not seek her because you are in need of capital." Bennet huffed and stomped to the far side of the room. "The only reason I do not cast you out is that you finally showed the good sense to throw Wickham aside. Your friendship with him does not stand witness to your sound judgment."

Darcy hung his head. "I know you are correct. My father wished me to cast him off many times and I refused. It was the one point we forever disagreed upon. I wish he might have lived to see it happen."

At least he could admit to his own errors. That was certainly a point in his favor, especially if he considered a life with Lizzy. "I will grant you loyalty and faithfulness are admirable traits when they are rightly placed—"

"I do not deserve—"

"No, you do not. But you might. I am not currently convinced of the soundness of your judgment and will not consent to give my daughter to a man I do not fully trust. Prove to me you are worthy to entrust her safety to and I will accept you as a son."

Darcy sighed and licked his lips. "I shall show you what you need. May I begin by recommending a locksmith? Wickham gave me one of Miss Elizabeth's keys and her scissors—"

"The blackguard stole them, he did." Piper pounded his fist into his palm. "I knew something were wrong when we couldn't find 'em."

"She said your strongbox key is still missing."

"I have taken precautions, but give me his name and direction, nonetheless."

"What do I need to do to convince you I am worthy to trust?"

"I will consider it and let you know." Bennet sighed. His heart pinched. Losing Lizzy was too much to consider. But perhaps it would be bearable, if he were not alone.

A flash of movement caught Bennet's eye. "Fitzwilliam." He nodded sharply and beckoned him in.

He handed Bennet an object in a bloody handkerchief. "I found her knife."

Bennet unwrapped it and held it out toward Piper.

Piper held up the knife and turned it in the light. "It be hers."

Fitzwilliam dropped into a chair. "I followed his trail as far as I could, but lost him. He did not lose enough blood to slow him down much."

"She said she struck his hand." Darcy stared at the knife.

"No doubt she surprised the hell out of him." Fitzwilliam pushed himself up with his elbows. "Not many gentlewomen are armed."

Piper handed the knife back to Bennet. "She shoulda gone for the vitals. I taught her better. She and me are gonna have some words." He crossed his arms tightly over his chest. His scowl deepened.

Darcy swallowed hard. He would not want a lecture from that face. How did Miss Elizabeth withstand his ire?

"As satisfying as that might have been, it may be best this way. If she mortally wounded him, the investigation might be…troublesome." Bennet rubbed his temple. "She was able to escape him and that is the material thing."

"Indeed it is." Darcy said. He mirrored Bennet's posture. A thunderstorm churned in his belly. How could Wickham have done such a thing? This was a man who offered for his sister and was refused. How could he have dismissed Georgiana's discomfort? Was Wickham biding his time to attack her too? What a fool he had been.

"I am impressed with her clarity of mind." Fitzwilliam braced his elbows on his knees. "I credit the ones who taught her. Forgive me, I must ask—"

"Yes, Jane is as adept and as well armed as her sister, for all her disposition is milder." Bennet grumbled under his breath. "She would have done the self-same thing, though she might have apologized before she ran off."

Piper snorted.

Fitzwilliam guffawed. "Whilst I am pleased to know that, what I was going to ask is what moved you to such an unconventional course? You must admit, few men would train their daughters in such unusual accomplishments. Did your wives approve?"

Bennet glanced up at Piper. "I suppose I was selfish, keeping my family as close as I could. Port cities are often less than genteel. To compensate my guilt, I insisted my wives and daughters were protected in every way possible, including the ability to defend themselves. I did not give either of my wives much choice in the matter, though neither one was a soft-spoken pliable woman. I expect they would have told me clearly if they objected."

"They learned faster than most sailors I taught. Right clever gals, all o' them." Piper rocked slightly on the desk.

"Miss Elizabeth is quite an adept with a wooden sword." Fitzwilliam chuckled.

"She be deadly with a knife." Piper glared at him.

"No doubt." Darcy rubbed his knuckles along his lips. His thoughtless loyalty to Wickham had forced her to demonstrate her skill. Her father had done so much to protect her, while he had endangered her.

"The great irony is that none of them ever had need of it, until we came back to London." Bennet threw his hands up.

Darcy started. "What happened whilst you were there?"

Piper pitched forward and shot him a glare more powerful than a musket ball.

"He has the right to ask." Bennet waved him down.

Piper growled and muttered swallowed invectives.

Fitzwilliam whirled on Darcy. "You did not!"

"I have." Darcy's cheeks burned.

Fitzwilliam slapped his thigh. "I cannot believe you actually—"

"Had the first conversation with me?" Bennet rapped his desk. "Do not think I have missed—"

"Not at all sir." Fitzwilliam grinned and saluted. "I know you miss nothing under your command."

"Keep that in mind." Bennet grumbled. "As to your question…it is appropriate you know—both of you—before your connections to my daughters deepen."

Darcy and Fitzwilliam exchanged glances. Darcy settled back, fists knotted. Bile pooled at the back of his tongue, his throat too tight to swallow it.

"You know what London society is like. You have experienced it all yourselves. My daughters, with their fortunes and connects, are quite eligible matches, particularly for second sons and peers in mean circumstances." Bennet laced his fingers together so tightly his knuckles went white.

"No doubt." Fitzwilliam said.

Bennet stared directly at Fitzwilliam. "Jane is well known as the loveliest of the two. But her poise and tranquility sheltered her from the most spirited suitors. She had her share, do not be mistaken, but they were not so…energetic in their pursuit as her sister's."

Fitzwilliam huffed what could only have been a sigh of relief.

"Elizabeth's lively disposition attracted much attention and many well-born young men, lacking in capital, but not ambition, sought her attention. She has such a keen sense of people, she saw through their facades very quickly and cast them aside."

"Of course," Darcy murmured, "she has little tolerance for their ilk."

"Indeed, not." Bennet leaned back in his chair, its joints creaking under the force. "On two separate occasions, a suitor attempted to compromise her into marriage, not knowing I would never condone such a union. She escaped the first without bloodshed, but the second will carry a pronounced scar across his right cheek as a reminder. She almost put out his eye."

"The hell-born babe started yapping what that it were Miss Lizzy who came at 'im, unprovoked." Piper growled. "She shoulda slit his throat."

"Perhaps." Bennet clutched his forehead. "The magistrates duly investigated and pronounced her innocent, having acted only in her own defense. Needless to say, a wave of cruel talk followed—"

Fitzwilliam held up his hand. "I have seen how devastating such verbal attacks can be."

Darcy stroked his chin. Who had done such a thing to her? A facial scar should be obvious enough. That family and their associates would never—

"Does that give you pause?" Bennet demanded. "Though Jane was never so forced, she would have done no differently. Both of them were sullied by the gossip. Anyone who associates with them will be tainted by the talk as well."

"There is a reason I—and my family—avoid London. I will not feed my sister to those hell hounds and harpies." Darcy said.

Fitzwilliam shook his head. He crossed his legs and looped his hands over his knee. "You have not followed the accounts of my family, I suppose. My elder brother has created his own set of scandals. I believe we can weather whatever else might come."

Bennet sighed and tapped his lips with steepled hands. "That would be Viscount Hightower, would it not?"

Fitzwilliam flushed and nodded. He glanced at Darcy then covered his face with his hand.

Darcy winced. He generally strove to forget his intemperate relation existed whenever possible. "You may also add Sir Lewis to our list of unfortunate connections."

Bennet chuckled.

Inexplicable, he should be reconsidering—

"Most men would be trying to convince me of the strength of their connections and how that would overcome my daughter's shortcoming, not airing their dirty laundry before me." The corner of his lips turned up.

Darcy opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again. No sense losing the ground he had just gained.

Fitzwilliam leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the arms of the chair. It creaked beneath him. "Then I have your consent—"

"I do not recall saying that." Bennet shook his head.

Piper pressed his lips into a hard line and rocked slightly on the edge of the desk.

Fitzwilliam drew a deep breath and opened his mouth.

"Stow it, Colonel."

Fitzwilliam half stood. "See, here, sir."

"I have not denied you either."

"Then what?" He fell back into the chair.

I can see my daughter is fond enough of you and the company you keep does you credit." Bennet glanced at Darcy.

Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes.

"But you have as much to prove to me as your cousin."

"Prove to you?"

"Yes. How will you provide for her and her children?"

Fitzwilliam's jaw dropped.

"I know too well the plight of a younger son. I am one as well. My mother had property which should have gone to me, Longbourn estate. With clever lawyers and no morals, my brother stole it from me and my family. We younger sons can be at the mercy of forces we do not fully control." Bennet held Fitzwilliam's gaze.

"I had no idea." Fitzwilliam said.

"Few do. I opted to abandon the estate and start afresh rather than continue to roll about in that muck and mire." Bennet rubbed his palms together. "Consider, you live with your cousin and aunt. I know not if this is by amiable choice or the object of necessity."

Fitzwilliam squirmed.

Darcy's lips twitched into a tiny grin. Few could discomfit Fitzwilliam so. It was a pleasure to observe a master leave his self assured cousin twitching.

"My daughter may have a fortune—which to your credit you have never inquired after. But I could hardly consider turning it over to one who might squander it and cheat her and her children of what should rightfully be theirs."

Fitzwilliam huffed and writhed against the leather upholstery. "I would very much like to take offense at that and indulge in a bit of high dudgeon. But I cannot. More fathers should be so concerned for their daughters." He sighed. "What do you require?"

"Proof that you can be trusted." Bennet glanced at Darcy. "How can I trust a man not responsible with _his_ money with a treasure like my daughter?"

"What can I do?"

"What evidence do you have to prove it to yourself?"

Fitzwilliam's brows knotted. He rubbed his jaw.

"Find evidence to prove it to yourself—in all likelihood, that will be sufficient for me."

"Yes, sir." Fitzwilliam's jaw set.

Darcy knew that look. There would be no living with him until he solved the puzzle and conquered this foe. He was insufferable when he was determined.

Bennet knocked on his desk. "Now, regarding Wickham—"

Piper swiveled to face Bennet.

Darcy leaned forward. "I will send men to town and to the farms to spread word we are looking for him and offer a reward for locating him. His friends do not generally tend to be the loyal sort."

"The girls shouldn't go out without me or a footman with them." Piper said. "A guard should be set up, all watches, as well—two men in the halls, all the time."

"Is that necessary? I hardly think—" Darcy said.

Bennet slapped the desk. "You hardly thinking is what brought us to this point! The bastard attacked my daughter. He has been stealing from my larder and most likely yours as well. Now he has been cut off from it all. What else do you _think_ he will do?"

Piper turned to Darcy and leaned close enough that Darcy felt his breath. "He be a desperate man now and I seen those sorts do things their own mothers wouldn't believe o' them."

Darcy dragged his hand down his face. 'You are correct. I am far too much in the habit of making excuses for Wickham."

"It is time you finally see that." Bennet snapped. "I expect you to implement the same measures at Pemberley. Your sister and Lady Catherine need no less protection than Jane and Elizabeth."

"Probably more." Piper muttered.

"If you do not, have no doubt, I will bring them here and see they are properly looked after."

Darcy's face burned. "You overstep yourself, Admiral. They are my family and my responsibility."

"Prove it." Bennet's eyes added—_and yourself._

Darcy stole a quick look at his cousin. "I will. Footmen will be stationed as you suggest and the ladies will not go out unaccompanied. I will satisfy your standards."

Fitzwilliam's brows climbed high on his forehead.

"See that you do. Elizabeth will be most disappointed if you do not."


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Though Piper combed the area and sent men into Lambton seeking Wickham, no sign of him could be discovered. After three days, Piper reluctantly agreed to stop his search, though he kept several of his friends on watch for Wickham.

Life slowly reverted to greater normalcy at Pemberley and Alston, despite the presence of footmen on guard even while the family enjoyed tea in the privacy of their drawing room.

"It is as though he has actually left." Fitzwilliam muttered over his teacup.

Lady Catherine harrumphed as she arranged her taffeta with one hand and fluttered her fan with the other, the very embodiment of a broody hen. "I for one shall not be sorry to see the end of him at Pemberley. I am certain Admiral Bennet was correct about him helping himself to the pantry here."

"I am so surprised to hear you agree." Fitzwilliam set his tea down, grinning as he leaned back.

She turned to him with a wide-eyed gape. Her eyes narrowed. She shut her fan and slapped his leg with it.

Fitzwilliam yelped. "Madam!"

"You best temper your teasing before Bennet acquires the gift he promised." Darcy lifted an eyebrow, head cocked.

Lady Catherine whirled on Darcy. "Excuse me?"

Darcy pressed his lips and shook his head, but the corners of his mouth drifted upwards.

"She will not be here to use it upon us and he will play hoist with his own petard." Fitzwilliam laughed.

"I hardly think so. She would not dare attempt to manage him as she does us." Darcy winked.

"Whatever are you blathering on about?" She slapped her fan into her palm.

_Shuck—shuck—shuck_

"Nothing at all, Aunt." Fitzwilliam grinned.

"Do stop your teasing," Georgiana rearranged biscuits on a planter, not looking up.

Darcy sighed. The pained note in her voice cut him to the quick. He set his newspaper aside and went to her. She looked up at him as he hunkered down beside her. Her gaze darted away.

"It is as he said. You are afraid." Darcy laid his hand over hers.

She blinked rapidly and offered a weak smile. "No, no, I am—"

"Trying to comfort me. But I should feel the full force of my error. You should not shrink from that, dearling." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I am sorry for remaining loyal to him for far too long."

"It is hard to consider loyalty a fault. You are the most dutiful man I know." Her smile brightened.

"But not the wisest, I am afraid. I am committed to change that though." He squeezed her fingers. "I should not have brushed aside your feelings or made light of his proposal to you. I thought him only joking, though you insisted he was not. I should never have taken his side. Will you please forgive me?"

"With such a pretty apology, how could I not?" Her smile was genuine this time. "You really are the best of men."

"You regard me far higher than I deserve." He hauled himself up. "Aunt?"

"Yes?" She scooted over on the settee.

He sat beside her. "You believe Wickham helped himself to Pemberley's supplies?"

She sighed, all levity leaving her eyes. "I do and I think it had been happening for a long time."

"Why did you never tell me?"

She raised an eyebrow and glared with eyes that would stop a dragoon in his tracks.

Darcy winced. "Do you think you can identify what he took, even some of it?"

"I do indeed." She struck her palm with her fan. "I instructed Mrs. Reynolds to keep a list whenever she felt the stocks did not add up correctly. If we compare that list to the dates we know he was here, I believe we can arrive at an estimate."

Darcy nodded. "If you would be willing to do that, I would greatly appreciate it."

The fan stopped. She laid a hand on his forearm. "What are you going to do?"

Georgiana leaned toward him, eyes wide.

Darcy combed his hair back with his fingers. "I am not certain yet. He must be punished, but I have not reconciled myself to seeing him hung." He swallowed hard and glanced at his sister. "Perhaps I am a sentimental fool, but Wickham has been my friend these many years."

Fitzwilliam huffed. "Some kind of friend, belittling you behind your back—"

Darcy raked his hair again. "Yes, I am aware of that, and yes, I did forgive him that. It was difficult for him at school - the poorest student, the one who relied on the charity of another student. He had to defend his pride somehow." He pushed himself up and paced from the settee to Fitzwilliam's chair. "But at the same time, he did me a service you do not understand and may never understand."

"Enlighten me." Fitzwilliam leaned forward on his elbows.

"I would like to understand, too." Georgiana whispered.

"My school years were among the most difficult of my life. Scholarship was easy. I have always relished study. But noise and crowds and unfamiliar people are my bane. Where others can talk of nothing for hours, I cannot. I had no idea how to join in and was vilified for it. I do not like games as a rule and was judged prideful for it. It is difficult to be surrounded by your peers and yet be so very alone."

"Darce, I never knew." Fitzwilliam said.

"I never wanted you to. How better to make my humiliation complete?" He stopped at the fireplace and leaned on the mantle. "That is why I petitioned father to send Wickham with me. At least that way, I would have someone familiar close at hand. Once we were there, Wickham eased the way for me. He was a popular student and helped me to make friends. I studied his example and began to learn those ordinary skills that had eluded me until then. He knew I observed him and it amused him. But he allowed it and I think, at times, set up situations for me to learn more. He would have had me learn a few things I had no interest in—prevarication is not a skill I ever wished to acquire." He laughed. "I know he spoke ill of me at times, but he never revealed the true nature of my discomfort. I will always be grateful he kept my secret."

"So it has not all been about the rescue from that rockslide?" Lady Catherine asked.

"No, it has not." Darcy turned. "I have not wanted to see the despicable nature of his deeds because of his service to me. I have been wrong in doing so and I will change that."

Lady Catherine cocked her head. "So Admiral Bennet—"

"Will have the proof he needs—or I will take his daughter to Gretna Green."

Fitzwilliam barked a hoarse laugh. "You would not! Piper would kill you, if the Admiral did not do it first."

Darcy silenced him with a glare. "Miss Elizabeth is of age. Her consent is the only one I need."

"You would go against her father?" Georgiana whispered.

"If I must. He overstepped himself and I will not have it." He released a deep breath, and sagged a bit. "But I will try to give him what he asks for first."

Lady Catherine set her fan aside and bustled to his side. "Georgiana is right. You are the best of men." She patted his cheek.

He pressed her hand against his face. "No, Aunt, I am not. But I am trying." He craned his neck to look at Fitzwilliam. "How are you getting on with those papers for Bennet?"

"Progressing well, now that I have gotten over the astonishment." Fitzwilliam laced his fingers and stretched his arms. His knuckles popped.

"Astonishment? Over what?" Georgiana stared at Darcy.

Fitzwilliam rose and joined Darcy at the fireplace. He clapped Darcy's shoulder. "Some years ago, when I joined you here at Pemberley, I asked your brother to help me manage my meager funds. I confess, I have been a lax manager and have not followed the reports closely, as I did not like being reminded of my own poverty. However, between Darcy and his solicitor, they have been managed excellently and I can no longer claim poverty as an excuse."

"So Admiral Bennet was right?" Lady Catherine tapped Fitzwilliam under the chin.

Georgiana rushed to join them. "Right about what?"

"Right that I needed to take a more active role in my own affairs." Fitzwilliam blushed.

Lady Catherine crossed her arms and smiled.

Mrs. Reynolds appeared in the doorway. "Sir, the post has come, with the letter you have been expecting." She extended a small silver tray with a fat, sealed letter.

Darcy pinched his temples and went to her. "Thank you." He took the missive. Its sharp corners cut into his palm. No doubt it bore bad news. He bowed to those in the room, "You will excuse me."

Fitzwilliam and Lady Catherine exchanged concerned glances.

Darcy stalked to his study. He threw the letter on his desk. The sealing wax hit the wood with a loud 'clack'. The decanter of port caught his eye and called to him.

No, the drink might make it too easy for him to ignore what was unpleasant. He had indulged in overlooking what he did not wish to see far too often.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and dropped into his chair. It creaked and complained beneath him. He picked up the letter. A bit of the seal, cracked by the desk, fell away, bouncing along the desktop until it dropped to the floor.

Mr. Locke's hand was crisp and neat, with firm masculine strokes written with precision and confidence. Though not personal friends, Darcy esteemed Locke as a solicitor. He was honest, diligent and prompt, and in all likelihood entirely offended by the officiousness of Darcy's last letter. Had he only known then what he knew now, he would never have written it as he had. Now, he would need to recant nearly every angry word.

His face flushed. He, who prided himself on temperance and good judgment, had just thrown it all away on a false friend and a thief. Would there be any path to restoration? He scrubbed his face with his hands. No sense in prolonging it. He unfolded the pages.

_Mr. Darcy, I am pleased to know that my prior work for you met your exacting standards. I regret to hear you desire to end our association. You have always been a fair man, so I hope you might permit me to present my case to you in the hopes you will reconsider your decision._

Darcy huffed a small breath. At least he might be able to retain his solicitor. That was a beginning.

_I understand Mr. Wickham is your particular friend and as such, you promoted his apprenticeship to me. I know it was your desire that someday he would succeed me in my practice._

_The sad facts of the matter are that Mr. Wickham's performance was wholly and entirely disappointing, almost from the first moment of his entrance into my employ._

_I have enclosed for your examination documentation of his work habits. As you can see, he arrived late and left early nearly every day. I docked his pay, but even that did not alter his habits of sloth. Had this been my only complaint against him, I would have retained his services, for your sake, but it did not end there. _

Darcy dropped the letter and rubbed his eyes. Only a few weeks ago, he would have consigned it to the fire without reading another word. His belly burned and churned. How foolish could he have been? He dropped his fist on his desk and relished the sting. What else could Wickham have done? He shuddered, swallowed hard and returned to the neatly penned lines.

_Items 'borrowed' from the pantry...rent not paid…gambling debts…creditors coming to the law office, disrupting…books and accounts not balancing…young ladies…Locke's daughter…_

Darcy's hands trembled. Georgiana's down-turned eyes and Elizabeth's tear-stained face filled his mind's eye. How many more such faces followed Wickham's path? Locke only hinted at the actual transgressions, but it was not enough. Darcy had to know. And make amends for what he could.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25  
**

Darcy slept poorly that night. He woke early and packed a trunk. Before anyone else stirred, he visited the kitchen for breakfast and took it with him to his study. In just a few hours, he would be able to wrap up enough business that he could leave the estate to his steward for several days.

He snapped his ledger closed and set aside his pen. The coach and the grooms would be ready soon. How was he going to face Locke after the letter he had written? He raked his hair. The more significant question though was how Wickham could have betrayed him so completely. And how could he have failed to recognize him for what he was?

Fitzwilliam stalked in and planted his hands on the desk. "Do not argue with me. I am going with you."

"Excuse me?"

"Mrs. Reynolds told me of your plans—rather I forced her to tell me. You have a fanatically loyal staff or they are scared to death of you. I am not always certain which."

"You are not coming with me." Darcy tucked the journal into a drawer. "It is my doing. I should bear the undoing of it as well."

Fitzwilliam banged his fist on the desk. "No, that is precisely why I'm coming with you. It is not your fault. Wickham is responsible for his own actions. You are too apt to bear responsibilities that are not your own."

"I recommended him to Locke. He was hired because of me."

"Balderdash! If Locke hired him because of you, it was to curry favor with you so that Locke could benefit and it serves him right for laying aside his good judgment. See, you are still trying to bear responsibility for Wickham and make up for what he has done. Your sense of duty is far too developed. "

"I do not recall you complaining about it when you have benefited from it." Darcy rose.

"You are correct. I am not proud of it, but I have taken advantage of it. I am most heartily ashamed of myself for it."

Darcy stared.

"Do not look so surprised. I am sure you have felt the sting of it. Hopefully, it has lessened recently as I have better come to my senses."

"I have never asked—"

"That is the problem. You never do. You see what you determine is your duty and do it, setting aside all your needs and wants. You try to take care of everyone Darcy, and it is too much. At some point, you must let us fend for ourselves." Fitzwilliam said.

"I do not—"

"Yes you do, and I will have no more of it. It is time for me to stand on my own. I have relied on you too much—"

"You never asked—"

"I never needed to. You anticipated it all. Where Father ignored me and gave me little except to control me, you have given me too much."

"What are you saying?" Darcy asked.

"Let me be my own man. Let me make mistakes. Let me suffer for them. It is long overdue."

They stared across the desk. Darcy sank back into his chair.

Fitzwilliam sat on the edge of the nearest chair. "If you want to make Miss Elizabeth your wife, you need to mend your ways now. She is not a woman who will tolerate so much caretaking."

"Have you met Admiral Bennet?"

"He is a commander, not a caretaker. There is a difference. Trust me."

"You suggest I am not suitable for her?" Darcy looked away.

"Not at all. You need her to rein in your generous nature." Fitzwilliam laughed. "Do you really mean to take her to Gretna Green?"

"I have not spoken to her of it."

"I thought not. She will say yes though."

"You are very certain."

"Yes, I am. But Bennet is right. You need reform as much as I before we take his daughters as our wives. I am determined to prove myself to him and I will make sure you do it, too." Fitzwilliam crossed his arms and slid back in his chair.

"Exactly how do you propose to do that? I have no need of a keeper."

"Yes you do or you will charge in to Locke's and take all the consequences of Wickham's profligate ways from him." Fitzwilliam tapped his foot loudly. "Habits are difficult to change. You need someone to hold you accountable."

Darcy chewed his lip. "I have no intention of excusing Wickham this time nor of making his way easy. But knowing I must answer to you will not hurt I suppose." He chuckled, but without mirth.

Fitzwilliam sprang to his feet. "I knew you would come to your senses. When do we leave? I can be packed in an hour."

Darcy shook his head. "There is one thing you overlook. Wickham remains unaccounted for—none of us know his whereabouts. Do you wish to leave Lady Catherine and Georgiana unprotected in our absence?"

Fitzwilliam huffed and leaned against the wall. "You think a threat remains?"

"Piper still accompanies the Miss Bennets whenever they leave the house." Darcy shrugged. "Bennet has not loosened his guard. I hardly think it behooves us to do less."

"Your footmen—"

"Will never be as vigilant as you or I. A hired man never is." Darcy braced his hands on his desk and pushed up. "I need you to stay and protect my family whilst I am gone. I will heed your warnings, but I cannot allow you to accompany me."

Fitzwilliam's lips furled and his brow knotted. "I do not like it."

"I did not ask you to like it. I asked you to do it. You said I have asked too little of you in the past. See, I am changing my ways."

Fitzwilliam grumbled and rolled his eyes. "This is not what I hand in mind when I told you that, but I cannot argue with you. I will stay."

"Thank you." Darcy picked up his bag. "I will be back as quickly as I can."

Fitzwilliam clapped his shoulder on the way out.

A mere half mile from Pemberley, Darcy stopped the driver. Though he had taken leave from everyone on his estate, there was another from whom he must take leave. The coach proceeded to Alston.

He worried his knuckles against his teeth. It was far too early to pay a call. Most households would still be abed, though he knew Bennet could not sleep much past dawn, nor did Elizabeth. Still, it just was not done.

Oh this was foolishness! How could he knock at their door at such a ridiculous hour? What would he even say? Enough! Inches from the roof a jolt as the coach turned knocked his hand away. They were already on the narrow drive leading to Alston manor. Bennet, atop his proud bay approached.

Too late.

How would he explain himself? He slid the side glass open.

Bennet brought his horse up close and touched his hat. "You are up and about early this morning."

Darcy rapped on the roof. The coach stopped and he jumped out. Bennet dismounted and gestured for Darcy to walk with him. The admiral's face was drawn up in seaman's knots. Clearly, he did not welcome company this morning.

"I suppose I am. But the journey to London is a long one and it is best to get an early start."

"London?" Bennet studied him. "To see your solicitor?"

Darcy tugged his collar. "Yes. Wickham recently worked for him—"

"But you are going to have him draw up settlement papers as well."

Darcy's ears burned. "That is on my agenda." He gritted his teeth and braced for the storm.

Bennet's steps grew harder, more purposeful. He grumbled low in his throat and glowered a face that would frighten his seamen into submission. "You are determined upon my Lizzy."

Sunrise was a bit early for a confrontation, was it not? He sighed, best have it out now. "Absolutely."

"You do not have my permission or my approval."

Darcy's heart raced and his face heated. Bennet's response was hardly surprising. There was hardly any avoiding it now. Was there a mast nearby for him to tie himself to? "She is of age. We do not require it." He straightened his spine and stared directly into Bennet's eyes.

Bennet's step hesitated. "You would have her go ahead against me?"

"Not if there is any other alternative."

Bennet harrumphed and set a small rock skittering into the tall grass.

Surviving the first onslaught was a good sign. But there was a second volley yet to be fired. "I wish to see her before I leave."

"This is an uncivilized hour to pay a lady a call."

"I am entirely aware of that, sir."

"Then why—"

"I thought it ungentlemanly to leave her so suddenly without explanation or word."

Bennet snorted, but kept his face decidedly away. "Now you are concerned with her feelings."

Now it begins. "Yes I am—hers and my sister's and my aunt's—I have overlooked them too long."

Bennet looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes.

"Will you permit me to call on her this morning or not?"

Bennet muttered something that sounded like _you will go behind my back anyway_.

What a low tactic, throwing out bait like that. Darcy would not rise to it. "I asked you a question, sir. Am I to expect the courtesy of an answer or not?"

Bennet stalked on several more steps.

"Admiral Bennet!" Darcy stopped, tall grasses tickled at his fingertips. "If you have issue with me, you will do me the courtesy of speaking it outright and looking me in the eye whilst you do it."

Bennet whirled on him and stomped toward him, stopping far too close for comfort. "Very well, then you shall have it."

Darcy returned his glare and raised an eyebrow.

"I hold you responsible for Wickham, for all he has done." Bennet stabbed Darcy in the chest with his fingertips. "I do not trust your judgment and if you think I am going to permit an unworthy soul to take my Lizzy from me, you are sorely mistaken."

"Untrustworthy? Any resident of Pemberley will take you to task over that accusation. I am as appalled as you are over Wickham's actions, but I am hardly responsible—"

"You should have thrown him out on his arse when he offered for your sister."

"Yes, I should have. I erred in believing his excuses."

"It does little good admitting it now."

Anyone else would have been pleased to have been agreed with. But not the admiral, the stubborn, disagreeable, angry soul Lady Catherine warned him to expect. She said Bennet would be this way, but to press on, that his bluster was more about his own issues than Darcy's. Do not let his bark intimidate you, she said, he would see what you are made from. She said he could prove himself by standing his ground and insisting upon what he wanted. She said not to worry. Bennet would come around and become one of Darcy's staunchest supporters. Why had he believed her?

"What do you want from me? I have cast him off for his insults to your daughter and did not for a moment believe his calumny against her. I am seeking out my solicitor to learn the truth of his behavior in London. What more shall I do? I cannot erase the past. Would you have me murder him in cold blood?"

They stared at each other, neither one giving way.

"Papa? Mr. Darcy?"

They both turned sharply.

Elizabeth approached from the house. The rising sun glowed in a halo behind her, an angel of deliverance from the angry apparition of her father.

"Lizzy, I thought I told you not to walk alone—"

"I am hardly alone, Papa, given that I am talking with you." The sweet little smile he loved so well quirked the corner of her mouth. Only she could get away with such a response.

Bennet harrumphed. Had he a sword in hand, he would have slid it back into his scabbard. Perhaps Lady Catherine's observations had a bit of merit after all.

"What brings you to Alston so early, Mr. Darcy?" She curtsied and looped her arm in her father's.

He tipped his hat. "I am for London this morning and did not wish to go without taking my leave of…you both."

"How kind of you. I am sure Papa has quite enjoyed your company this morning."

Did she not realize the fire she played with? That man could explode into vitriol at any moment, yet she poured kerosene near the spark. She winked at Bennet.

He grumbled something unintelligible.

"I had hoped to obtain his permission to call upon you as well, madam."

Bennet glowered and quivered just slightly. Surely he would erupt in invectives in just a moment.

Bennet threw up his hands. "I am going to the morning room. Stay to the gardens within view of those windows." He stalked to the house.

Darcy offered her his arm and led the way to the gardens.

"Papa is in high dudgeon for so early in the day. I cannot fathom what has upset him so." She peeked up at him, her eyes twinkling.

Did she have to be so tempting so early in the day, and with her father certainly watching from the windows? A man could only tolerate so much!

"I can." He glanced toward the house.

"Indeed?"

"I expect he is displeased with me overall and my unmannerly, early arrival only inflamed it. Finding yet another fault to credit me with was not the balm his spirit required this morning."

"I see." She choked back a giggle. "I fear, sometimes, his temper does get the better of him."

"He is angry over Wickham—and whilst I do not entirely blame him—"

"He is hardly being reasonable about it either."

He chuckled. "That thought had crossed my mind."

"It crosses the mind of any who deal with Papa long enough." She looked at him and cocked her head.

He snorted. "I suppose I should be relieved to hear that."

"Why so?"

"It allows me to take his resentment less to heart. If he often—"

"Do not take his ire lightly, for it is a very real thing."

His shoulders fell and he sighed. He placed his hand over hers on his arm. The penetrating warmth of her fingers soothed his ragged nerves. "I do not think he approves of me as a suitor."

"I have surmised as much."

He stopped and glanced at the house. A cloud passed overhead, allowing them to see into the morning room. Piper had just entered with the boys. Bennet would be distracted for at least a few moments.

He stepped in front of Elizabeth and took her hands. "How do you feel about his attitude?"

"I am troubled." Her eyes spoke more than her words and his chest pinched painfully.

"You are aware we do not require his consent."

"Not legally, no." She pressed her lips tightly and nodded. Her head hung and feet dragged through the yielding grass.

His heart stopped as he struggled to catch her gaze. "What are you not saying?"

She looked aside.

_No, no! Please, no!_ "Do not turn away from me, Elizabeth, please." He grasped her upper arms unable to draw breath.

She turned her head farther from him, but did not pull away.

"Do not hide from me. I cannot have it." He touched her chin and guided her to look at him.

She peeked at him, but dropped her gaze quickly.

The questions in her eyes sliced through his composure. Did she doubt him? Why—of course she would. When had he ever properly expressed himself?

He embraced her cheek with his palm. "I fear I have not done a good job at this, but please do not doubt my feelings. Allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. Almost from the first moment I met you, my heart, my mind have been so distracted by you, I could hardly dwell upon anything else. If only you know how many times I have played your sword battle with Fitzwilliam over and over in my mind, wishing it was me with you instead."

She blinked at him. "No, do not tease me so. If you cannot be honest with me, I—"

"You think me prevaricating? I do not understand."

"What of all your severe looks? I do not recall any signs of regard in your countenance then."

Ouch! Directness was not foreign to her, painful though it might be. He swallowed hard. She would not be his beloved if she were anything but. "That foolishness was my attempt to convince myself that my life was complete enough and I was content—all the while you were showing me how very empty I was."

She blinked and smiled just a little.

He bent his head to brush his lips to her forehead, but his self-control was not enough. He touched his lips to hers instead. He should stop, he knew. But a brief taste was not enough. He pulled her to him, desperate for her warmth in his arms, her breath on his cheek, her heartbeat against his. Here, she was the completion of his every emptiness, the fulfillment of his every desire.

He could not let her slip through his fingers for there would be no one else like her. Without a doubt, he would not enjoy the Admiral's felicity to find love, this kind of love, more than once in his life. His chest constricted, too tight to breath. Aching for air, he pulled back and met her gaze.

Her eyes shimmered and a tear glittered on her cheek.

A tear.

Cold prickles scoured his face. Why tears? She was afraid—or was it angry—or what was it?

He willed his hand not to tremble as he lifted the tear from her cheek and pressed it to his lips. He drew breath, but she laid a finger over his lips and shook her head.

"Do not apologize," she whispered.

His heart began beating again. Could she feel his arms quake with the force of it?

She smiled, though her chin quivered. "I know I should…, I cannot object to your attentions. I know it terribly improper—"

He kissed her to make her stop. She melted into him, lips soft and warm beneath his. Hunger, consuming hunger gripped him and he could not bring himself to stop until he had to breathe. He pulled back only inches to gasp for air. "No dearest,I will not have you even think that. Those accusations in London were untrue. You are indeed all that is good and proper in a woman. I find it most desirable that the lady I would pay court to desired me as much as I her. Never, never apologize for that."

She bit her lip and nodded a fraction.

"Why the tears, my love?" He brushed another away.

"I know Papa is difficult and maddening and stubborn." She glanced back at the morning room windows. "But please, do not make me choose between the two of you."

His stomach knotted. He looked over his shoulder. Piper blocked the window. Bless that man! "I do not know if there is anything I can do to satisfy him."

"I know." She sniffled.

"Then what do you want from me? Tell me and you shall have it, anything."

Her eyes welled up. "I do not know. I have never seen him like this, so unreasonable. I do not recognize him at all right now."

He pressed his face close to hers. "I will not give you up, not for anyone's opinions."

"He does not frighten you?"

"Not nearly as much as the prospect of life without you." He cupped her cheek and stroked her forehead with his thumb.

"No one—"

"Shhh. When I return, I will try to make peace again. But if he does not relent, mark my words, dearest, loveliest, Elizabeth, I will carry you off to Gretna Green in the middle of the night and return with you as my wife."

"No! You—we—could not."

"I suppose you are correct." He laughed softly and brushed away another tear and touched a kiss to her forehead. "But I will return with a special license so that the vicar might marry us some afternoon in the family chapel and come with us to explain the fact to your father."

Her eyes bulged.

"Surely he would not harm a man of the church."

She touched his face. "You are not joking are you?"

"Not at all." She had agreed to be his wife and she would be. He squeezed his eyes shut, scouring his memories for that moment. His eyes flew open, was it possible? No! "Dear Lord, I am a fool!"

She stiffened and tried to pull back, but he held her fast.

"I can hardly believe it, I was so certain I had, but I only imagined it."

"What are you talking about?"

"I have never actually asked you—I –forgive me. I have been utterly blinded by my love for you. So much so, I have completely overlooked—" He dropped to his knee and pressed his forehead to the back of her hand. "Elizabeth, I love you more than I ever believed possible. Would you consent to be my wife?"

"Oh!" She covered her face with her hands and trembled.

He jumped to his feet and pulled her hands away. She was crying—sobbing. What had he done? Failing to ask her until now was a terrible mistake, but was it so bad as this? He pulled her into his shoulder and stroked her back. Piper no longer stood in the window. No doubt the Admiral would be storming out soon. Hang it all! "Elizabeth?"

She gulped and looked at him. "I am sorry—I am being missish and overwrought, silly—"

"You are neither. Please forgive me for being such an overbearing fool not to have asked you before."

She gulped. "No, it is not that."

"Then what?"

"I never dreamed anyone would—"

"You are not displeased with me then?"

Her eyes shimmered. "Not at all."

He smiled more broadly than he ever had before. "Am I to understand that as a yes?"

"Yes."

His hands and feet tingled. So this was what it was like to be supremely happy. He pressed his forehead to hers. "Then I shall find a way to win your father before we marry or reconcile with him after. But either way, you, Elizabeth Bennet, will be my wife. Soon."

"You are a very confident man, Mr. Darcy."

"With you in my arms, I could be nothing else." Her full red lips demanded a kiss and she must be denied nothing.

He pulled her into him, immodestly, indecently so, so close there could be no secrets between them. One hand pressed her shoulders and another, her waist, fingertips ranging a hair's breadth further than they should.

She tipped her head up and received his lips on hers, meeting his passion with one of her own that tore through him like lightening. Was it possible for a woman to be as ardent as a man? Obviously, this one treasure was. How could he ever let her go?

Their tongues met and his knees threatened to melt. He clutched her more tightly, only for her small fingers to bite into his waist and shoulders. Her hand slid, just a fraction, just enough to fan his passion dangerously hot.

If only—no, he must not go there. She was worthy of every possible respect and he could not dishonor her—nor ruin the chances for reconciliation with her father. He pulled back. "Elizabeth, I must…I cannot…you are too perfect…if I do not release you now, I…"

She reached on tip toe and whispered into his hear. "I know." Feather-like lips brushed his ear and suckled his earlobe for the barest of seconds.

He threw his head back and groaned. "Woman, do not tempt me so. I am but a man—one your father would not hesitate to murder in cold blood if he had any inkling of what my thoughts were right now." He sucked in a deep breath and stared into her eyes. "I promised you I would do everything in my power to make peace with him, but if I do not separate myself from you right now, I…I…" He kissed her again.

She kissed him back, just once, then stepped away. "You are right." Her cheeks glowed and a fine sheen of perspiration dotted her forehead. "Perhaps that would be best for both of us."

He grabbed her hands. "I will remain here and watch you to the house."

"Yes, I think that is best." She glanced over his shoulder.

He followed her gaze. His coach stood not far off, the horses contentedly grazing.

"How long will you be gone?"

"Not one moment more than I have to be. A week, ten days at the most I think."

"Not so very long."

"Too long to be without you. But, I will return with settlement papers and a license and we will be free to marry as soon as you are willing." He pressed her hands to his lips. "Please, let it be soon."

"Very soon." She whispered.

He kissed her hands and released her. She straightened her shoulders and smiled bravely. He watched her every step into the house, then hurried to his coach. He could not return soon enough.


	26. Chapter 26

**The entire Given Good Principles Series is now available on Amazon, Nook AND KOBO!**

**Chapter 26**

Halfway back to the house, Elizabeth's steps slowed. An encounter as she just had must be savored, especially since she had no doubt chaos would erupt as soon as she entered the house. Her skin tingled with the feel of his hands. Surely her lips were swollen and her complexion heightened. Her hair was disheveled beyond what a walk could explain. If Papa had not observed everything, he would know it all with a single glance.

He would not be pleased.

So be it.

Papa might be accustomed to having his way, but as Lady Ellen and now Lady Catherine said, it would not kill him to suffer disappointment once in a while.

She paused a few steps from the door and squared her shoulders. She hated Papa's anger and he would be beyond angry now. But what was Papa's wrath to Mr. Darcy's love? It was time for her to remove herself from his command and leave him to his new lady. She would only be in the way when Lady Catherine took over as mistress, benevolent and gentle as she may be.

Piper opened the door for her, frowning and shaking his head. "That weren't—"

"Perhaps not."

"You know—"

"I do, but it matters not. I love him and he offered for my hand. He does not need my fortune nor my connections, but wants me for myself alone. I will marry him. I am not—"

"I know you ain't, Missy." He patted her shoulder. The dark eyes buried in his craggy face twinkled a soft approval. If only he could get Papa to understand—

"Elizabeth Francis Bennet!"

She cringed. His command deck voice threatened to shatter her fragile composure. Small footsteps pounded up the stairs. At least her brothers would escape that voice today. No doubt their governess would have no trouble keeping them to the nursery this morning.

"My study, now!"

If Mr. Darcy was not already for London, she would be out the door running for Pemberley. She could not run fast enough to catch up with his carriage, either. Why had he left her alone to face Papa?

No, that was not fair. Had he any idea of what awaited, he would surely have stayed with her. Perhaps Gretna Green was not such a bad idea.

Piper cleared his throat. "Missy, it don't do to keep him a-waiting."

She nodded and allowed him to escort her to the study, trying to ignore the sympathetic glances from Hill and the footmen she passed on the way. Her knees turned rubbery and each step felt heavier than the last. She loved Papa so dearly, but in moments like this, she feared him. At sea, he wanted it that way, but at home?

Piper pushed the study door open. Papa stood at his desk, back facing the door, hands tightly clasped behind his back.

She swallowed hard and strode in. Piper shut the door. She approached the desk and stood at attention.

His breaths were deep and ragged. His neck twitched and hands clasped so hard his knuckles were white.

She had not seen him in such a state since she had marked that vulgar young Lord with her knife. Could he be comparing Darcy to that vulgar mushroom, whose bollocks she would have happily dangled from his watch fob? He best not or—

Papa turned to face her, face creased into hard lines a tanner would be hard pressed to match. He fixed his eyes on her. She lifted her chin, blood thrumming in her ears. With boldness only Mr. Darcy could rouse in her, she met his flashing blue eyes. Few dared do so when he was in this state.

"I am shocked, truly and deeply appalled."

Of all things he could say to her right now, it would be that. Her eyes prickled and burned. She gritted her teeth and held back the words that would not help her cause.

He stalked around the desk and pulled up short beside her. His hot breath burned against her face and ear. "I never dreamed I would witness any of my daughters in such a compromising position. After what you endured in London, I cannot believe you would permit such liberties, much less be a willing participant. You make me wonder if I have misjudged— "

"That same behavior is less troublesome when exhibited by you and Lady Catherine?" Her eyes narrowed and her jaw hardened. She could play his game, if that was how he wanted it.

He sucked in a sharp breath. "There is no comparison."

"I do not see why not. It seems quite similar to me. In fact—"

"How dare you!"

"You do not consider your behavior improper? How intriguing." She tossed her head. "I have seen you both and found your liberties quite—"

"You have been encroaching upon my privacy?"

"Enlightening." Her eyebrows arched and she allowed the corners of her lips to drift upwards just a mite. Had he not forced her to this, she might feel guilty. "Though your interactions with Lady Ellen were even more…educational."

His cheeks flamed and he sputtered.

"You were unaware of how unguarded you were with her? I should have thought you knew. She did. Jane as well and my poor sister was entirely scandalized at the ongoings we found under our own roof. But Lady Ellen told Jane and me that you were merely an example of marital felicity when you kissed and embraced in the corners of the library and that we should hope to be so fortunate as to find an affectionate man."

"My behavior is not in question!"

"Is it not? I thought we were examining the boundaries of appropriate behavior for _unmarried_ individuals. Or is it possible that you had forgotten that you are just as unmarried as I?"

"Elizabeth!"

"Perhaps you can enlighten me, just how were Mr. Darcy and I so different from you and Lady Catherine in Pemberley's library the other day?"

"How dare you!"

"Or is passion all right for you alone but not for a younger man and woman—or is it something only reserved for those twice widowed, not just once. In that case you must consider, Lady Catherine is only once widowed."

"Lady Catherine is not a maiden—"

"She was married six weeks before her husband abandoned her for other diversions and she locked her door to him since—and that was what—close to thirty years ago? That hardly qualifies her as an experienced woman."

"Elizabeth!" He slapped the desk. "You will cease such indelicate—"

"You think all these years surrounded by naval men, in foreign pours of call, has left me with any delicacy? No wonder you are so disappointed in me. I am shockingly indelicate, considering I can swear as vociferously as you and I know the meaning of everything I am saying." That was probably too much, but what did it matter?

Papa's jaw worked like a trout languishing on deck. His eyes bulged, intensifying the similarity.

"At least Mr. Darcy reserves his cavorting to his betrothed."

"His what?"

"You have not even asked Lady Catherine to marry you and yet you take and she permits such liberties with her person."

"Betrothed?"

"I should think that far more disturbing for two unengaged persons to be romping about than two who are—"

"Not another word on this matter! I will not have it."

"Good." She flashed a tight smile and turned on her heel.

He grabbed her upper arm and forced her back. "I am by no means finished with this conversation."

"But I am."

The air between them crackled. His hands shook at his sides. "You will not speak to me in such a manner."

"How then shall I address you when you are acting like a fool? You, who pride yourself on your wisdom and capacity to—"

He took her chin in his hand and held it hard. "I will be spoken to with respect in my own home."

She winced and pulled away. "How can you expect respect when you offer none?"

"What are you blathering about?"

"Your treatment of Mr. Darcy. He has shown you honor and respect, yet you offer none in return."

"I have been civil."

"Your behavior this morning was nothing short of rude and intolerable."

"My behavior? My behavior? Shall we consider the licentiousness I just witnessed from both of you? And right in front of my windows no less."

"Have you considered that you would rather know what is happening than having us hide behind your back? You can be certain we both knew you were there. But if you prefer, I assure you, we could easily make certain our assignations are much less observable than your own."

"He all but compromised you there before me in my own garden!"

"And I encouraged him wholeheartedly. If there was anyone to blame, it was me!"

"I noticed you encouraging him. Do you not take the danger here seriously? Your reputation hangs in the balance."

"You consider me compromised?" She leaned in until she was nearly nose to nose with him. "So make us marry. I guarantee it will not be so hard a thing to manage."

"I am ashamed of you."

He knew those words struck like a slap in the face. She recoiled.

"Ashamed!"

So he relished the pain he inflicted. How could he?

"You seemed so concerned about your reputation in London. I do not know what to think. I swear, Elizabeth, moments like this I have a mind to—"

"To what? Flog me like a sailor?"

"I have seen men flogged for less lip that you have given me this morning."

"Fine!" She stalked to the sea chest and flung it open. She grabbed the dirty canvas bag and yanked free the knots. The worn cat fell onto the floor. She snatched it up and stomped back. Muttering an unladylike invective under her breath she hurled it at his chest.

He caught it.

"You only mean to hurt me anyway, why not do it properly?"

He stared at her, jaw open.

"Go ahead and do it. I know you know how. You may as well finish what you have begun and do it good and proper to boot." Her breath came in hard pants. She quivered with their force.

The door creaked open and Piper trundled in.

He laid a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. "Go on, now, Missy. Ya be done here for now."

She drew breath to speak, but he shook his head. He turned her and gave her a slight push for the door.

The door shut quietly behind her.

Piper whirled on Bennet. "What the bloody hell be ya doing?" He ripped the cat from Bennet's hands and threw it into the corner.

"You saw her this morning as well as I."

"Aye, I did."

"And you defend her? What is this estate coming to? Next you will be telling me—"

"He's a widower of six years and he keeps no mistress."

"You cannot be sure of that."

"Yes I can. Ya think I would let him near Missy Lizzy if I thought there were any other woman in the wings?"

"Why did you not tell me?"

"You did not ask. I dare say you did not even think of it, with your eyes so full of Lady Cathy."

Bennet grumbled.

"What's more, as I recall, you did not make six months afore you took another missus."

"He will make Lizzy his mistress if they continue on their course."

"Then let them marry."

"Let her marry a man I do not trust?"

"You're being a damn fool. You know as well as I, he be more trustworthy and honorable than any other man you bloody well know."

"Exactly how do I know this?"

Piper shook his head and spat into the fireplace. "A fine blind man you'd make right now. Selfish bastard. You're driving her away."

"Never."

"Daft too, now."

"Piper!"

"Did you not hear, she sees you wantin' to hurt her—has she ever said that before? In all the years when you scolded her, when you lost your temper, when you made an arse out of yourself, did she ever say you were only trying to hurt her?"

Bennet snorted.

"Has she ever balked at you correcting her—no—not Missy Lizzy. She never done nothing but try to please you more than anyo other living soul and the moment she finds a man you should be proud to call son, you start acting like an utter arse!"

"Enough!"

"You keep this up and you will see her leave you. She will marry Darcy, but never see you again. And Lady Cathy won't have you for it neither. If you be wanting either of your ladies at your side, you best start rethinking your tack." Piper huffed and stomped out.

Bennet flopped into a nearby chair and dropped his face into his hands. What had he done? Lizzy had his heart and soul, the one who understood and supported him when no one else did. She tolerated him in his worst moments and helped him connect with his sons and even Jane. In the dark days after Fanny died, and Lady Ellen, she was his comfort, the one who could bear the depths of his grief. Would she really turn her back on him? No, it just was not possible.

He pushed out of the chair and slipped out of the study. He could move quietly when he wanted to and today he did. He stole upstairs and went directly to Lizzy's room.

The door sat barely ajar. He peeked in.

Soft morning light silhouetted her in the window. She stood straight, shoulders back, chin up, as he always taught her. That was his girl. Sometimes along the way, though, she had become a striking elegant woman. When had that happened?

She shifted, just slightly, allowing him to see the line of her face. She had her mother's eyes, but his jaw. Her chin quivered in the light and … what-those were tears on her cheeks.

Of course, their heated conversation would have upset her. That should be expected.

She blinked hard and swiped the back of her hands over her cheeks. The curtain fluttered back into place and she turned away from the door. Soft steps took her to the closet. The door opened with a gentle creak. She knelt on the floor and dragged something large and heavy toward her.

Her trunk? Her trunk!

She swung it open . The lid banged hollowly against the wall. She lifted a pile of fabric and stood, letting it trickle down out of her hands as she did. The creamy silk, embroidered in a complicated floral motif puddled on the floor near her feet.

Good Lord! That dress was Fanny's. Was it—yes, Fanny's wedding dress. That sentimental, soft hearted—she had saved it, passed it to Lizzy before she died. He never knew.

Lizzy held it to her chest and gazed down at it. She smoothed it over her waist and twirled with it, shadows of the little girl she once was.

Surely it was far out of style—too much so for her to consider wearing it.

"Oh mama," she whispered, voice ending in a squeak. "I love him—" Her chin dropped to her chest and she gulped in a shuddering breath. She flung the dress on the bed and collapsed into a sobbing heap on the floor.

Bennet staggered away, hand pressed to his chest. He made it to his chamber and shut the door behind him, falling against the wall. His chest burned while his belly had turned to ice. Bloody hell, Piper was right.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Darcy usually enjoyed the trip to London, particularly if he could make the trip alone. Three days in the coach made Fitzwilliam as fidgety as Francis Bennet, but Darcy reveled in the opportunity to consider and reflect. This trip was different. His meditations brought him no comfort.

Every fiber of his being demanded he make things right for Locke, for Miss Elizabeth, for everyone. But how was such a thing to be accomplished. What would even make it right? To listen to Fitzwilliam, the best thing he could do was to do nothing.

How could he sit by and do nothing? If he did not fix things, insure everyone was taken care of…what would happen? He held his breath, the thought resonating in his chest. What would happen?

His chest ached and his lungs screamed for breath. Taking care of everyone was as natural to him as breathing. Could they manage if he did not? Could he? Where would he be; who would he be if he did not ensure…everything.

He fell back against the squabs. What had he ever been able to control? Despite his best efforts, he could not save Anne's life. Lady Catherine's happiness seemed utterly unconnected with anything he did, if her scolding was any indication. Fitzwilliam still was not a man of independent means, nor was Wickham. But Fitzwilliam argued that his own lack of initiative contributed materially to his situation.

Darcy had encouraged his cousin for years to take more action, but Fitzwilliam never did. What made the difference now…Bennet of course. That overbearing, meddlesome, controlling….he scoured his face with his palms. Was his own judgment so faulty? Was he untrustworthy?

He rubbed his tongue on the roof of his mouth, trying to rid himself of the itchy, dry wool feeling. His jaws clenched and he screwed his eyes tightly. No, Bennet had overstepped himself on that account. Pemberley prospered under Darcy's management. Rosings Park…when he first took over, it appeared that David would inherit only debts and a decaying manor house. Now, Darcy had hope that the estate would be solvent by the time David took over.

Darcy exhaled heavily. Bennet was wrong, his judgment was sound and he was trustworthy.

But not perfect.

In that, Bennet was correct. He had done too much…too much for Wickham, for Fitzwilliam, - and it would stop.

He swallowed hard against a rising emptiness. What would he do with himself if not managing those concerns?

Love Elizabeth.

He slumped against the sidewall, tension flowing away in waves. Of course. He had invested himself in caring for those around him to fill the gaping hole in his soul, the one Elizabeth alone could satisfy.

This was what Bennet had been asking! Could he trust Darcy to make Elizabeth be his first priority? Darcy closed his eyes and smiled. He could and he would.

Though he could have met with Locke that evening, Darcy instead chose to remove to his townhouse first. Some of the urgency of his visit faded with his new understanding and the meeting would go better on a good night's sleep.

The next morning, rested and peaceful in a way he had not felt before, he arrived at Locke's office.

"Mr. Darcy?" Locke jumped up from his desk and trundled to the doorway.

Locke's cravat sat askew and his waistcoat buttons mismatched their button holes. Glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose, ever ready to fall, but miraculously holding in place. His right index finger bore a permanent ink stain that framed the chewed nail. Though he looked for all the world like the most incompetent apprentice clerk, Locke was a brilliant solicitor.

Darcy's father had taught him to look beyond the man's appearance to his work. Locke's contracts were meticulously detailed and free of the common loopholes and dodgy language which plagued other solicitors' work. He had proven himself trustworthy through long years of association. Darcy woud hate to lose the relationship now.

"I was not expecting you, sir." Lock rubbed his hands along his pants. "I received no letter, sir."

"I sent none. In fact, I received your letter." Darcy pulled it from his pocket and snapped it with his other hand.

Locke ran a finger along the inside of his collar. "Ah, yes, that. I must beg your indulgence, sir. I fear I wrote that in a fit of pique and I have regretted it from the moment I posted it."

Darcy lifted his hand.

Locke's mouth continued to move a few seconds after his last words stopped.

"Is there some place we might sit privately?" Darcy glanced over Locke's shoulder.

"Of course, please, follow me." Locke turned and waved Darcy to follow. He shuffled through a pocket door, down a narrow hall that leaned decidedly to the left, and through a door streaked with cracking red paint.

Lock muttered under his breath and shifted a pile of papers from the large wing chair to the desk. He stumbled over a doorstop left in his path. Darcy caught his elbow and steadied him. Locke kicked the stop to the baseboard and shuffled to the desk. Another pile shifted to the desk and he dropped into his seat with a grunt.

Darcy shook his head. He would never have offered his patronage to Locke had his own father and uncle not endorsed the solicitor wholeheartedly. How could such a man be obsessively attentive to detail? His uncanny memory made better sense-how else could he manage to find anything in the suffocating stacks of paper, books and ephemera? Doubtless, others had the same questions about Locke. Without the Darcy's and Matlock's backing, Locke's business would have failed.

Locke coughed into his hand. "You wished to speak with me?"

Darcy tried to lay the letter on the desk but could not find space. He smoothed it over his lap. "I came to discuss the matter of Mr. Wickham."

"I thought as much." Locke swiveled his chair and leaned down to a stack of ledgers on the floor. From the center of the pile, he removed two. He shuffled his chair about and rifled through a stack of paper and selected half a dozen sheets. He completed the rotation with a final stop at his strong box for several envelopes and returned his attention to the desk.

Darcy drew a breath, but Locke lifted a hand and shook his head marginally.

With shocking precision, he stacked ledgers on the left, staggered papers along the center and lined the envelopes on the right. He touched each document in turn, closing his eyes briefly with each one. He nodded and lowered his hand. "Proceed."

Watching Locke always made him chuckle. Instead, Darcy schooled his features into a businesslike mien. "Regarding Mr. Wickham, your letter," he lifted the sheet, "details a number of transgressions, some trivial and others rather serious."

"Ah, yes, I remember that." He tapped the nearest ledger with his left hand. "I was out of line when I wrote that. I should never have brought those concerns—"

"Stop!" Darcy would have slapped the desk had he found an empty space.

Locke jumped.

Darcy sighed. "I did not come here to demand an apology."

Lock jerked upright and removed his glasses. He tipped his head to peer at Darcy as though the change of perspective would reveal another man in his office. "Indeed, sir? How unexpected." He polished his glasses against his sleeve and balanced them back on the tip of his nose.

"Now we have established that, perhaps we may proceed."

"Am I to understand you are withdrawing your support from Mr. Wickham?" Locke shifted papers and envelopes, clearing space.

"You are correct." Darcy nodded slowly.

Locke lifted his hand and swiveled his chair. Several moments of shuffling and muttering produced more journals, paper and envelopes.

Darcy swallowed hard. So much evidence against Wickham. "How much harm has Mr. Wickham caused you—and your family?"

Locke looked down at his desk. "I suppose this looks rather serious, no? I am a meticulous man, as you know."

"I count on that fact. Now, regarding Wickham?"

"As to that, I do take precautions with all my employees to mitigate the damage they might—"

"Stop." Darcy planted his elbows on the chair arms and resettled himself. "Perhaps I should begin here: Since my own hasty letter, I have made a number of displeasing discoveries regarding Mr. Wickham. I am here to gather information to inform my next actions with Wickham, not to rescind my patronage from your practice."

Locke exhaled sharply and sagged into his seat. He pulled a handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and mopped his sweaty brow. "I cannot pretend not to be relieved. Your support and that of your good father before you has meant a great deal to me and I would—"

Darcy raised his hand. "The matter of Mr. Wickham? How much damage has he done?"

Locke nodded and opened the first ledger. "I assume you would prefer to begin with the most serious concerns."

Darcy snorted. "Yes."

Locke opened an envelope and withdrew several carefully folded sheets. "Before I begin, I wish to assure you that, despite Mr. Wickham's best efforts otherwise, I experienced few actual losses due to his…ah…questionable practices."

"Is that so?"

Locke cleared his throat. "I know it may not look like it, but I am acutely aware of everything and everyone connected to my business. Many people put their trust in me and I do not take that lightly. Better, cleverer men than Mr. Wickham have tried to take advantage of me and none have succeeded yet. All that you see before you is documentation of Mr. Wickham's activities, not evidence of the damages he has wrought."

"But your letter—"

Locke raised open hands. "As I said, it was written in haste, in a fit of pique. It was no doubt misleading with respect to the actual injuries suffered. I noted his attempts rather than his successes."

Darcy huffed a heavy breath. "I am much relieved."

"I know it may seem I need a keeper, but be assured, I do not." Locke's mouth curled in a lopsided smile and he chuckled.

Heat flashed across Darcy's cheeks. "I still wish to be acquainted with Mr. Wickham's activities, if you do not object."

"Not at all, sir. I would like to see him get what is coming to him. There's no doubt I am not the first he has tried to cheat." Locke opened the papers and snapped out the creases.

Two hours later, Darcy tucked a quire of foolscap, lined with Locke's neat handwriting, into his briefcase. The evidence against Wickham was clear, objective and overwhelming. The theft from Locke's pantry alone was enough to see him hang. How much had he stolen from Pemberley?

Bile coated his tongue—would he ever lose the taste? His endorsement of Wickham could have cost so many—he owed Locke a great deal for mitigating as much of the damage as he had. How badly he had underestimated Locke's ability to take care of his own business. Perhaps Locke was not the only one he underestimated. There was no _perhaps_, definitely. He made a habit of doing that and it would stop today.

Locke's daughter rapped on the door frame. At her father's nod, she bustled in with a tea tray. She must have favored her mother, tall and graceful, her hair and dress immaculate.

She curtsied and offered Darcy a teacup and plate of shortbread.

"Thank you." He sighed. "Miss Locke, I would like to apologize for any way in which Mr. Wickham may have importuned you."

The remaining china rattled on her tray. Her cheeks flushed and she looked away.

Darcy rose and took the tray from her and handed it to Locke. "I am recently made aware of many transgressions by Mr. Wickham and am most ashamed to have sponsored him."

She stared at him, blinking, mouth agape.

"I pray his imposition on you was of short duration."

"It is forgotten, sir. Thank you." She dropped in a graceful curtsey.

Locke stood and edged around the desk to stand near his daughter. "Do not for a moment think I am any less careful with her than I am with my accounts. After his first attempt at impropriety with her, I sent her to stay with my mother in Manchester until I could ensure her safety."

She slipped her hand in her father's and smiled at him.

"I am most relieved. Still, if there is anything I may do to make up for him, do not hesitate to ask."

"Yes, sir." She curtsied.

He turned to Locke. "I think that is all for one afternoon. I shall return in the morning to discuss several papers I need you to draw up."

"Thank you, sir. I will await your call." Locke shared a glance with his daughter.

Darcy tipped his head and let himself out, acutely aware of how close he had come to embarrassing both himself and Locke. The audacity of him believing Locke needed his protection, when in fact, he should take instruction from his solicitor in protecting his family.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

Nine days after Darcy's departure, Jane and Elizabeth persuaded Piper to allow them to accompany him into town on errands. While they legitimately had business there as well, they craved fresh company and escape from the confines of Alscot. Lovely man that he was, Piper even offered to pick up Miss Darcy along the way - assuming of course, Colonel Fitzwilliam would agree. A smile from Jane and a promise from Piper was all he required to grant permission, and the three young ladies were off to enjoy Lambton.

The sun was bright and the air soft with a gentle breeze as they rode into town. The break in the heat promised rain would be on the way soon, but their afternoon should be quite pleasant. Piper accompanied them on their calls to the butcher, grocer and chandler, though he waited outside the door most of the time. It would not do to make the shopkeepers nervous, he reasoned. After visits to the linen draper and milliner, the young ladies claimed fatigue and pleaded for a stop at their favorite confectioners. Piper grumbled, but acceded. After all, the confectioner's shop was not known as a gathering place for thieves and ruffians. The dainty furnishings and refined, expensive delicacies did not exactly attract a rough crowd.

"I promise. We will not leave the confectioner's until you come for us." Elizabeth watched over Piper's shoulder as Jane and Georgiana sat down at an exquisite little table near the window.

Piper craned his neck to see them. "No." He shuffled to them. "Ya mustn't sit here." He grabbed the back of Georgiana's chair.

She sprang to her feet. "Why ever not?"

Poor girl could barely speak to him. Every time he even looked at her, she blanched and shrank away. Though she claimed she did not find his battle scars repugnant, his demeanor was another thing entirely.

"We might be seen from the street if we sit there." Elizabeth forced a smile. "It would not do to flaunt the fact we are without our guardian." She patted his scarred cheek.

"Do not give me that attitude, Missy." Piper poked her shoulder. " Of all people know, ya what he is capable of. Or have ya forgotten how ya baptized your knife in 'im?"

Elizabeth shuddered, hand reaching for her pocket. "I shall never forget." Beastly unfair of him to remind her of that when she was only enjoying a little levity.

"Then do as I tell ye and sit 'ere." He pointed at a table in the corner, partially hidden by a set of shelves. "The owner likes your blunt well enough; he will see to it ye are served well." Piper stalked to the other table, pulled out a chair and set it down with greater forced than necessary. "Ya mayn't see the passersby from 'ere, but they don't need the like of fine ladies like ye gawkin' at 'em no how."

Jane and Georgiana walked arm in arm and sat where Piper instructed. He glared at Elizabeth. She slipped into the remaining seat.

"Thank ye." He signaled the serving girl, whispered something in her ear and pressed a coin in her hand. She curtsied and hurried off.

"We shall be fine here." Elizabeth peeked up at him. "Besides, you are certainly tired of lace and linen and ribbons. You have earned a rest from female frippery."

Piper folded his arms and glowered at them. "Ya wish to be talking of your young men outside my hearing so's all of your chatter will not go back to the Admiral." He tapped his foot.

Jane blushed and looked away. Georgiana bit her lip and trembled.

Elizabeth cocked her head and met his gaze with an eye roll. "It took you so long to notice?"

Piper threw his head back and laughed heartily. "Then by St. George hisself, just say so. Be straight with me, Missy; ye know that."

Elizabeth giggled. "Yes, sir."

"And don't be calling me sir, now; else sure as I stand here, I will box your ears."

"Yes, Piper." She blinked meekly though her smile faded just a bit. "We will wait for you to come for us."

"See that ye do." He grumbled and trundled out.

Other patrons turned and watched his departure and whispered among themselves as soon as the door closed behind him.

Jane and Elizabeth looked at each other and dissolved into peals of laughter. Tears ran down their faces. Georgiana looked from one to the other, a most bewildered expression on her face. Elizabeth tried to draw breath, but could not still her laughter. Georgiana pulled a neatly embroidered handkerchief from her reticule and handed it to Jane.

"Thank you." Jane dabbed her eyes, still gasping for breath.

Elizabeth gulped back the remaining giggles and forced her face into something more sober. "Piper still frightens you." She pressed the back of her hand to her cheeks.

"He frightens anyone of good sense." Georgiana glanced toward the doorway.

Elizabeth and Jane covered their mouths and snickered.

"Piper is a dear soul." Jane gulped a breath and wiped her eyes again.

Georgiana planted her hands on her hips and huffed. "You say that as though it were obvious."

"It is, when one has been around him all one's life." Elizabeth struggled to subdue her smile. "He maintains his frightening mien as it serves his purpose. But beneath it, you will find no one more loyal. He earned a large amount of prize money serving under Papa, enough so that he does not need to remain in service to Papa or anyone else. He could have a place of his own, or a business, but he chooses to remain with us. He is family to us, an eccentric uncle we cherish."

Georgiana rolled her eyes and shrugged. "My nephews adore him and my brother respects and trusts him. There are few men he does. That says a lot for him."

The serving girl appeared with a tray of lemonade and dainties. "Your man said to bring ya a bit o' everything an' ta see ya had all ya wanted." She placed the blue and white china carefully in front of them, curtsied and retreated.

"How kind of him to spare us the agony of choosing among so many wonderful treats." Georgiana's hand hovered over the plate bobbing between a tiny tart and a square of marzipan.

"Here, take them both." Jane dropped them both on Georgiana's plate.

"Oh no, I could not." She pushed her plate toward Jane.

"You can and you must," Jane pushed it back, laughter bubbling out once again, "for neither I nor Lizzy prefer those."

Georgiana giggled and accepted her plate back. "What would you like Lizzy? That chocolate cream must be calling out to you. Lizzy?"

Elizabeth pressed her finger to her lips. She angled herself to look around the shelves and out the window.

"What is it?" Jane whispered. She leaned forward, forearms on the table and craned her neck.

Elizabeth waved them back. The bell on the door tinkled and heavy, shuffling footsteps followed. She pulled back behind the shelves.

A man with a bandaged hand carried in a sling around his neck, hat pulled low over his eyes, approached the front counter. His dirty coat looked like every other villager in Lambton and his stooped posture was equally nondescript.

Elizabeth strained to hear, but his words were muffled. "We must leave," she whispered

"Why?" Georgiana glanced from the strange man to Elizabeth.

"That is Wickham."

Jane gasped.

Georgiana shook her head violently. "No, surely you must be mistaken."

"That man does not belong here. His right hand is bandaged—"

"Just because he is injured does not make him—"

The man at the counter turned slightly toward them. His right eye twitched.

"Did you see that?"

Georgiana gulped.

The serving girl walked past and Elizabeth grabbed her arm. "Is there a back door out?"

"Yes, mum, but only us who work here use it." She cocked her head and blinked her eyes.

"We must leave quickly. Take us now and you may keep the remains of the coin our man gave you." Elizabeth tried not to look at Wickham, but her gaze could not wander far.

The girl's eyes widened. "Yes, mum" She beckoned them to follow.

With quick steps, she led them behind another shelf and into a narrow, dark corridor, past a drafty stairway into a storeroom where the backdoor was cracked open. Sunlight streamed in, promising safety

"Thank you. Speak of this to no one." Elizabeth grabbed the girl's hand painfully. "Speak of this to no one. Our man will be most displeased if learns you have betrayed us. Whilst I would never order him to harm anyone, he is apt to do as he wilt when his back is up."

"Yes mum." She girl dropped in a shaky curtsey. Clearly, she felt much the way Georgiana did about Piper.

Elizabeth grabbed Jane and Georgiana's hands and sprinted outside.

"Where are we going?" Georgiana looked about.

Elizabeth paused and surveyed their surroundings. The sun hid behind the gables of the storefront. Long shadows danced along the cobble stones and chased an orange cat from her hiding place. Barrels and boxes were piled near several doors. The cat pounced on something small and squeaky behind one of the piles. Heavy smells of hard work and life hung between the buildings.

"Away from here and out of this alley, it is a trap. Too many dark corners and too few people." Elizabeth started toward the main street.

"Piper mentioned he intended to see the vintner, the shoe maker and the blacksmith." Jane said.

They emerged from the alleyway, a block away from the confectioner's. Elizabeth paused a moment and scanned the street. "He is friends with the blacksmith. I expect he would go there last to visit a mite and give us time to enjoy ourselves."

"So, you know where the blacksmith is?" Georgiana bit her lip.

"Yes, this way." Jane pointed and stepped out.

"Wait!" Elizabeth pulled her back. "That is Wickham's horse." She pointed.

"How do you know?" Georgiana asked.

"You see that marking on its forehead and the three black socks and the odd patch on the hind quarter? Trust me—there is no mistake. That is Wickham's." Elizabeth grabbed their hands.

They rushed into the large intersection and turned left. Breathless, they slowed to a quick walk. It would not do to attract too much attention to themselves. Three more turns and the familiar clang of the smithy's shop greeted them. Several steps from the shop, Elizabeth peeked over her shoulder. No one, at least no one she could see, followed them. She gulped in several deep breaths.

"What the devil be ya doing here?"

Elizabeth jumped and turned into Piper's glowering face.

He dropped a heavy hand on her shoulder and squeezed hard. "I told' ye ta stay put and' ya promised me—I don't like it when ya promise—"

"We saw Wickham." Elizabeth grabbed his calloused hand.

His posture and expression shifted from uncle to soldier. "Are ya sure?"

Jane nodded vigorously. "He was in the confectioner's."

"His hand was badly bandaged and I think it was infected. I saw his horse in the street. I am certain."

Piper muttered a string of epithets Georgiana had clearly never heard before. She blushed from her shoulders to her forehead and her eyes budged. She gasped.

"I do not think he recognized us—that is why we fled." Elizabeth walked toward the shop.

"We ran nearly all the way here." Jane said.

Piper led them in. He muttered and slapped his fist into his palm. The smithy looked at them. He was a big burly man with tufts of rugged red hair that could not be contained by the leather strap that held back the rest of his mane. His face and arms were smeared with soot and sweat and his smile was barely less menacing than Piper's.

Immediately, Elizabeth was at ease in his presence. He was cut from the same cloth as her father's man.

Piper clapped her shoulder, "Ya done good, Missy. I should ha' known ya wouldn't dare disobey a direct order lest it were for a nigh on good reason."

Georgiana stared at him, jaw agape.

He clapped her shoulder, too, though more gently. "It be well, Missy Darcy; ya can quiet ya trembling. I ain't unreasonable, just a mite fearsome." He winked.

She did a double take and giggled. Jane cocked her head and lifted a delicately arched brow.

"I needs to see if I can find him." He turned to the smithy. "Ya wife be strong enough for an afternoon call?"

"She were churched just this week and the babe is strong and healthy. I think she would very much enjoy the company." The smithy stroked his scraggly chin and nodded slowly. "I think I'll be going with ya, just ta remind him, friendly like, of the debt he owes me. My apprentices can watch well enough in my stead."

Two broad shouldered, barrel-chested young men stepped forward and crossed their arms over their chests.

So, Wickham's debts extended beyond the smith. Cards? Horses? Something else? Little matter, the apprentices' displeasure with him was clear.

Piper nodded. "I'd welcome the company."

"I will let the wife know to expect ya." The smithy shuffled toward the cottage behind the shop.

"His apprentices are kin to his wife. You will be safe, here. Stay until I come for you. Mrs. Smith is a sweet girl. Youwill enjoy her company. I know ya better than to think ya too high for the likes of such a simple home. Come."

He led them along a rose-lined path to a neat cottage. The smithy showed them in and introduced his wife. The front room was neat and cozy. Though simply furnished, the sunny disposition of the mistress shone through. The windows sparkled and crisp striped drapes fluttered in the breeze that wafted the roses' perfume inside.

"Do not leave the house." Piper whispered in Elizabeth's ear. "I do not know how long we will be gone, but I will return for you."

She nodded. He ducked out the door with the smithy.

Despite the knot in her belly, she smiled and made pleasant conversation. It was not Mrs. Smith's fault they were calling under such uncomfortable circumstances and it would not do to be rude, especially when it might be construed as an insult to her hospitality. She was indeed grateful that Mrs. Smith would receive them under the circumstances and dearly wanted to convey that, though her words were not well up to the task.

Thankfully, Jane stepped up and carried the conversation. Dear sweet Jane. She always knew what to say and how to say it. Georgiana too was all that was gracious and pleasant. Soon all four women were laughing and cooing over the baby like old friends. Doubtless, more visits like this would follow.

But even the visit's pleasantness could not overshadow the specter of Wickham's threat. Would Wickham menace Jane and Georgiana as well? Elizabeth shuddered. How could this be happening? Would she ever feel safe again?


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

Though Piper questioned the confectioner and the serving girl thoroughly, they had little information. Wickham had come seeking one of their delivery boys whose name they readily provided. They also offered the observation that Wickham seemed very unwell. His bandaged hand seemed putrid.

With the smithy's help, Piper readily found the boy and one glare of his scarred visage frightened the lad of the little information he had, little use that it was. He had no idea of where Wickham might be staying or what his plans were. But a small coin garnered a promise to send word if he came by more information. Another small coin sent the same boy off to Alston with a message for Bennet to meet Piper and the ladies at Pemberley.

The boy ran all the way and Bennet rode hard all the way to Pemberley. He arrived before Piper and the ladies. Mrs. Reynolds welcomed him in and Lady Catherine received him in the drawing room. He paced the path along the fireplace, huffing and grumbling as he went. Damn fool Piper, not to be there when he arrived. No doubt Piper would bring all the girls back safely, but waiting was not his strong suit and his ire only grew with each passing moment.

"You will wear a track in the carpet if you do not stop." Lady Catherine stepped directly in front of him, arms folded lightly. She smiled her tightlipped smile, head cocked, not quite laughing at him, but far too amused for his liking.

He stopped short and glared. With a snort, he pulled his shoulders back and towered over her, nostrils flaring.

She thumped his chest with two fingers. "Do stop your show. I have no need of it nor am I impressed by it."

He growled and flexed his hands. "You will—"

"I will what?" She rose on tip toes and stared into his eyes. "Let us establish one thing clearly, from the start."

"And what would that be?"

"We are not at sea. This is not the Navy and _you_ will not stand about barking orders at _me_." She tapped his chest with each point.

"Excuse me, madam? Do you suggest—"

"I do not need to be ordered about like some seaman."

"I was not—"

"Yes, you were." She planted her hands on her hips. "I will have you know and acknowledge, I am a capable first mate and expect to be considered nothing less."

His jaw dropped. Only Ellen had dared speak to him with such fire.

She pulled up a little straighter. "Have you forgotten I kept Rosings running, alone, the years of my husband's madness? In spite of his debts and never knowing who would arrive next demanding payment, I kept the place afloat until…"

He puffed out a heavy breath and dropped his head. "Yes, Cathy."

"That is better." She cradled his cheek in her palm. "Now tell me."

He drew her into his arms and pressed her to his heart. She nestled into his chest, her warmth a soothing balm. He kissed the top of her head. Lizzy was right. He was lonely, far more than he would ever admit and Cathy's presence brought it into sharp relief. Ellen had warned him of the same things. She would have approved of Cathy. They would have been good friends had they ever met. He smiled. How soon could they arrange a wedding? He held her a little more tightly, but he relished her closeness a little too much. He had to keep himself under good regulation, so he released her.

"Forgive me, I must move about. I cannot be so still with so much on my mind."

"Of course." She stepped back out of his path, a wry little smile on her lips. She knew, he could hide nothing from her. Perhaps that was not entirely bad. She did not seem displeased.

"I cannot believe that black guard is still in the county. None of you are safe until he is gone."

"You would see him hung from a yardarm."

"I would. At the very least, lashed about the Fleet." He growled and spun on his heel. "You think he deserves less?"

"No."

"How could Darcy allow this to continue all this time—to harbor that snake in his home, never considering what damage might be done? He is responsible—"

Lady Catherine whipped her fan out and slapped her palm. "Enough! Stop it now."

"You do not need to defend him—"

"Yes I do." She stomped three steps toward him, paused and sighed. "I understand you are angry and I do not fault you for that. But place the blame rightly. Darcy acted out of duty. That was perhaps the strongest lesson his father taught him and he learned it well. Nearly every act of his life has been motivated by his sense of responsibility, not his preferences or comfort. Toward Wickham, toward Anne and me, toward his cousin…"

Bennet's brow rose. "Fitzwilliam?"

"Oh, you do not know. That is right, you never asked and neither of the boys is so forthcoming." She rolled her eyes. "Darcy could not stand by and watch Fitzwilliam disowned for condemning his brother the viscount's lifestyle. The viscount indulges in many of the same pastimes Sir Lewis did. Fitzwilliam voiced his displeasure to his brother and it led to a rather spectacular row. My dear brother , the earl—who by the way knew full well of Sir Lewis's indulgences and did nothing—threw Fitzwilliam out and cut off his allowance."

Bennet shook his head. "I had no idea."

"Of course not. Fitzwilliam's pride did not allow him to live off his cousin's charity and do nothing, so Darcy purchased his commissions and made sure he advanced and lived comfortably, opened his home when Fitzwilliam retired and even mediated a restoration in the relationship between the earl and him. Everything Fitzwilliam has, he owes to Darcy. Everything I have, I owe to Darcy. Everything Wickham has, he owes to Darcy."

"What possible duty could he owe that cur?"

She spun around and stalked away. Muttering under her breath, she paced the length of the room twice and whirled on him. "How could he possibly owe any duty to a man who has recently displeased you? You blind, arrogant, self-important sham of a commander."

He stomped to her. "Woman, you go too far."

She stopped him with her fan in his chest. "Halt. Cease and desist immediately."

"How dare—"

"Easily. I will defend my boys, even from the likes of you. I will have you know Wickham _did_ save Darcy's life and I will forever be grateful to him for that. I would not be here nor would my grandsons have been born had Wickham not acted to rescue Darcy. What his motive was, I do not care. I am grateful. Did you question Piper's motive the first time he saved your life or did you consider yourself lucky that there was someone there for you in your time of need? Did you not believe you owed Piper something for what he did?"

Bennet grumbled and wrapped his arms around his chest.

She harrumphed. "What is more, all those years Darcy was away at school, you have no idea how he suffered."

"Suffered? I do not recall the schools he attended anything compared to the life a seaman endures."

"You are insufferable!" She threw her hands up. "Have you not noticed the bond between Philip and Darcy? As your Lizzy is just like you, Philip is like Darcy. A quiet intelligent boy who is not at ease in a crowd. No, I do not fathom Wickham's motives. Whatever they were, he helped Darcy through the crush of school days, introducing him, including him, teaching him how to make friends and be acceptable to others. The same service Francis and Lizzy perform for Philip."

"Now you find fault with my son? And you dare compare my daughter and son to _him_?"

"Do you deny Philip is uneasy in company? The poor lad took nearly a week before he could speak to me and only then because I discovered his favorite sweets. Now, he is easy enough with me; in fact, I consider myself honored that he seeks me out to tell me his secrets, but I had to work for the honor. He needs the help Lizzy and Francis offer to help him overcome his natural reticence."

"It is not the same."

"How so?"

Bennet glowered and harrumphed.

Lady Catherine slapped his shoulder with her fan. "Darcy felt he owed a duty to Wickham whether you like it or not. Now, whether Darcy went too far in honoring that may still be discussed."

Bennet looked aside.

"You are a piece of work, you know? You would lay the blame on my nephew, whilst not accept any of your own."

"My own? What exactly do you hold me accountable for?" He towered over her and glowered.

"If Darcy is to blame for Wickham's actions, then you are equally liable for your daughter's unfortunate experiences in London."

His eyes bulged. "You cannot—"

She balanced on tiptoe and glared into his eyes. "Indeed I can. You failed to protect Lizzy from improper suitors as much as Darcy failed to control Wickham. In fact, this dreadful affair with Wickham is your fault as well."

"My fault? You are overlooking Darcy's—"

Lady Catherine slapped her palm with her fan. "No, he did his duty to all of us—and more. How any of us have chosen to repay him is not his responsibility." She turned on her heel and stalked to the window. "You cannot see how this can be construed as your fault, can you? Yet the argument is as just as making it Darcy's."

"Mine?" He stomped to her side.

She flipped her fan open and fluttered it before her flushed face. "You chose to hire Wickham despite your best advisors' warnings. Neither Lizzy nor Piper supported him. I know you thought Lizzy's judgment compromised because of London, but to ignore Piper?"

"I gave Wickham a chance, as I did Piper and other men through the years."

"Yes, you did. Is he the first to have failed you?"

"No, it has happened before, not often, but it has."

"So you knew it was a possibility and still you took him on?" She tossed her head and scoffed. "Take responsibility for your choice. Do not blame others."

"You have gone too far, woman. What you imply exceeds all good sense and propriety."

"As did the way you treated my nephews." She snapped the fan closed. "And I will not stand for it any longer."

"You will not stand?"

She slapped his forearm with her fan. "No sir. I love my nephews too well to connect myself with a man who would mistreat them and look down upon their kind and generous natures."

Cold prickled his cheeks, his stomach knotted. "What are you saying?"

Her voice lost its heat, replaced with an icy, eerie calm. "I am saying that I believe you are a better man than you are acting right now. I married a man who did not live up to his best and I will not do so again."

"You liken me to Sir Lewis?" The bitter words barely slipped over his tongue. She could not possibly consider—

"Not in specifics."

He exhaled heavily.

"But I will not tolerate a man who does not live up to the best he can be."

"You will not have me?"

"Not if you continue to behave so stupidly."

Bennet stared at her, mouth agape. He blinked hard, trying to clear the haze in his mind. She could not mean—

"You cannot imagine a woman turning her back on all you offer with Alston and your connections? Or that your behavior could be so poor as to overcome the inducements." Frost formed on her words.

Bennet stalked to the window and pressed his forehead against the cool glass. Her accusations lay like a sodden cloak, cold and chilling across his shoulders. He gripped the window sill, his breath fogged the panes. Her reflection skated along the glass, ethereal and revealing. She watched him, but the determined glint in her eyes did not fade. She would walk away from him.

Ellen and Fanny were good wives but not quiet, soft spoken ones. They never kept their opinions to themselves, particularly with regards to his own conduct. They were his strongest supporters and harshest critics. Though they may not have always been right, their opinions were always valuable. Through hard experience, he had learned to listen to them and weigh their words carefully. Cathy sounded so much like them.

She turned her back and faced the fireplace.

Her disengagement burned with the intensity of a physical blow. He was about to lose her, the woman he already thought of as his companion and partner. Loneliness gripped his chest, squeezing the breath from his lungs. Pride would not steal this chance from him.

He sidled behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She stiffened a bit at his touch. He held his breath and she softened. Blood rushed back into his face as she leaned back into his chest. He caught the top of her head under his chin and rocked her to him. "Oh, Cathy."

She wrapped her arms over his and patted his hands. "I know, you do not like to be out of control. You cannot allow that to get the better of you. You are better than this. Do not punish Darcy and Lizzy for your choices or for Wickham's."

He held her tightly.

"You do not want to let her go. She is the child who is your spit and image and it is painful to allow that one to leave you."

He gasped. So this was what it was like to be stripped bare and exposed to view. This woman saw into the nakedness of his soul and did not flinch nor judge. She did not condemn but merely named what he had allowed to remain a mysterious specter in the shadows.

She turned in his arms and tugged his head down to press her cheek to his. "You do not even understand yourself, but I do."

He pulled her into his chest. "You are right my dear. I am a stubborn old man—"

"Stubborn, but not a fool. Sir Lewis was a fool and I will not suffer one again."

He pulled back to hold her nose to nose, unable to suppress a crooked little smile. "Thank you for your confidence in me."

She stroked his cheek with feathery fingertips.

Oh, that touch could ignite far more than she realized. She was playing with fire—and the dear minx knew it! He swallowed back a hearty laugh, though, from her expression, his eyes betrayed him.

"I have every confidence in you. Now, show my boys the same. Fitzwilliam will prove himself to you easily enough. You are doing him a favor by pushing him to a bit of self-reflection. But release Darcy from your unfounded resentment. He will respect you all the more for it. You know there is no better match or protector for Lizzy."

"I know." He swallowed back the tight knot in his throat.

"And you will have me to keep you company in her absence." She winked, eyes sparkling.

What a delightful tease she was! "A great inducement indeed."

He drew her in sharply, hugging the breath from her. So close he could feel her sweet breath on his face, he bent to taste her lips. So sweet, so warm.

She held nothing back. Her heat flowed through him, liquid and fiery. Her passion matched his as their tongues twined.

"Cathy," he growled in her ear and nibbled the side of her neck. "Marry me, soon."

She stroked his back, pressing into his kiss. Her hands drifted to his waist, teasing, but not breaking his self-control. "You took long enough to ask. I was wondering if my nephew would have to call you out for compromising me."

He threw his head back and laughed. "I have not yet begun—"

The front door creaked open and Piper's distinct footsteps echoed in the foyer.

Bennet sucked in a sharp breath.

She patted his cheek. "This is probably best, all told. We should be a good example for our children."

He grumbled, offered her his arm, and escorted her out.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

The final day's ride back to Pemberley started late and did not improve. What should have been a few short hours turned into an arduous day with a thrown horseshoe and a broken carriage wheel.

What else would go wrong? Darcy peeked out the side glass. Surely highwaymen would be bearing down them soon. Gah! He shook his arms, the tension in the coach so thick he could barely breathe. All hopes of meeting with Bennet today were dashed with the remains of the wheel by the side of the road.

What had he been thinking, leaving Elizabeth to face her father alone? Had he only realized sooner, he would have charged into the house ahead of her and taken the Admiral's wrath himself. But fool that he was, the idea only occurred to him well after his passions had cooled, only an hour from the coaching inn where he spent the night.

If only he could have written to her, gotten some inkling of the severity of Bennet's reaction. He could have tried, but doubtless the letters would have been intercepted by the man himself. Damn it all, he could have written his aunt. She would have seen to it—why could these ideas not come to him at a useful moment?

Now it would be at least another day until he could see her. Charging to Alston at this late hour would win him no further favors. He banged his head against the soft squabs. If one more thing went wrong, he would abandon the coach and walk the rest of the way.

By the time he reached Pemberley, he almost wished something else had gone amiss and he could have walked out the burning energy that vibrated within each aching, travel-weary limb. As the coach crossed the gates into the final approach to the manor, he rapped on the roof and the coachman stopped. He bounded out and sucked in fresh air with just a teasing bit of cold.

He left a trail of stiff tension and anxiety in the uncut grass and found vestiges of his good humor as well. Light poured through the front windows, inviting, welcoming him. Finally, he was home.

George and David tumbled through the door, nearly knocking him to the ground.

"Papa! Papa!"

He opened his arms and embraced them. Elizabeth was not the only one he had missed. How could anyone not long for the warmth of their children squirming and wriggling to get closer into their father's embrace? Unseemly? Bah—this was the stuff that made the trials of life bearable.

"I missed you too." He kissed the top of each tousled head and relished the scents of boyhood and dirt.

Their governess dashed through the door. "I am sorry, sir—"

"Do not worry, I am happy to see them." He stood, a boy hanging off each hand. "Now, you must go back with Miss Mallory."

David tugged his hand harder and drummed his toes on the marble. "But Papa! We have barely seen you!"

"You may join us for tea in the drawing room tonight."

"Thank you, Papa!" George clapped his hands.

"Come boys." Miss Mallory ushered them into the house. She paused and cast another look of apology over her shoulder.

Darcy sighed. She had lasted longer than any other governess he had employed. The boys were not bad children, just high spirited. Did she have the strength to continue to manage them? Perhaps it was time to consider a replacement. Surely with a good reference she could find another situation quickly. Perhaps Piper knew of a retired navy man—ah, he could deal with that tomorrow. He dusted his coat sleeves and followed.

Fitzwilliam met him a hair's breadth before Mrs. Reynolds.

"Why did you not send us word?" Fitzwilliam asked.

"I am glad to see you too." Darcy glared. "Has dinner been served already?"

"Yes sir, we just finished."

"Send a tray to my study. I shall be there momentarily."

Mrs. Reynolds curtsied and hurried away. No doubt she would ensure his favorite biscuits and tea were on that tray as well. Oh, it was good to be home.

Fitzwilliam took his briefcase and led the way to the study.

Darcy shut the door behind him. "I assume you wish to talk."

"Surprisingly perceptive of you." Fitzwilliam placed the case on the desk.

"I have been on the road all day and my patience is sorely tried."

"Perhaps you should go back then, for you will only find more to try you here."

Darcy sank into a chair near the fire and clutched his temples. "Could you not bring me welcome news?"

"And make your life simpler? Why ever would I do that?"

"Perhaps because you live under my roof and eat the food from my table, quite heartily I might add. And stop sitting on the arm of the chair like that. The boys have already picked up on that bad habit of yours as well. The governess is having enough trouble managing them. She does not need you aiding and abetting their bad manners."

"It sounds as if you are anxious to be rid of me. To that end, I have been considering properties—"

"Surely this is not what you proposed to talk about." Darcy squeezed his temples. "If it is, it can most certainly wait."

"Not, it is not." Fitzwilliam slid onto the chair and sat up very straight. "Is this more to your liking?"

Darcy glared.

"How was Locke?"

"He is still my solicitor. The settlement papers are drawn up—though I have no idea of what Bennet will say about them. He is likely to find plenty of minutia to pick apart."

"Do not be too certain of it. Aunt Catherine was most displeased with him."

"Blast and bother! Do not tell me she has interfered in my—"

"Interfered is one way to describe it."

Darcy slapped the arms of his chair. "Meddling woman has stepped beyond—"

"Do not dare say that to her face or she will hunt you down and haunt you for the rest of your days."

"She is haunting my days right now! I do not need her arranging me another marriage. I accepted it once, but this time it shall be on my terms."

"Bully for you—it is about time you worked up a good lather over something. You have allowed us all far too much latitude in the name of duty."

Darcy dragged a hand down his face. "What did she do? How much am I going to be faced with? It is not as if I had very much good favor with Bennet to start with."

"So I heard. That was quite some performance just before you left."

"Dear God, are the servants talking?"

"They would, if not for Piper. Fear not, dear cousin. You have that man's approbation and he will not have an ill word spoken about you by anyone. He keeps all the tongues from flapping here." Fitzwilliam wagged his brows. "It was him who told me."

Darcy's face flushed. If it grew any hotter, it would surely burst into flame.

Fitzwilliam threw back his head and laughed. "Relax, old man, it is good to know that there is a core of—"

"Enough!"

"No need to be sensitive! I, for one, am pleased to see that you are as much a man—"

"I said enough!" Darcy sprang to his feet. "I am appalled that my lack of self-control surely caused Elizabeth no end of grief with her overbearing father!"

"Have no fear, you are not short champions. Piper and Lady Catherine were both ready to champion your cause. You can be certain Piper had a pretty word to say."

Darcy snorted and raked his hands through his hair.

"You know how our aunt can be! It was something to see—or rather hear about—it turned upon someone other than us!"

"And you were privy to this how?"

"You should have seen her face! Such a proud old hen finally pecked the rooster himself."

Darcy braced his elbows on the mantle. "How is this supposed to help me? Surely he will be more set against me now than he was before."

"She told Bennet she would not have him, if he interfered with you and Miss Elizabeth."

"I do not need her to bribe him—"

"Do not fool yourself—she is not so selfless. She dotes upon her grandsons and will not jeopardize her ties to them for any man."

"I cannot fault her that." Darcy rubbed his eyes.

"And do not forget she harbors a certain fondness for you as well. I am not so sure she could abide a man who did not approve of you. She does owe you a great deal."

"We are family, there is no debt—"

"I know, I know, you say that enough, but you will have to endure gratitude when it is offered, whether you like it or not. Now, Locke?"

Darcy heaved a sigh and dropped back into his chair. "He was as anxious to set the entire incident aside as I."

"How much—"

"Very little, all things considered. The debts of honor are not my concern. A man foolish enough to gamble what he can ill afford to lose deserves what comes to him. Locke, however, manages his affairs with the same precision he writes contracts and suffered little actual loss by Wickham—inconvenience but not loss."

"And his daughter?"

"He played games with her affections but her father prevented serious damage. The biggest issue is the theft—enough for Wickham to hang for it."

Fitzwilliam grumbled and resettled in his seat. "You will not wish to hear it, but he has not left the county."

"What?" Darcy's catapulted to his feet.

Fitzwilliam raised his hands to slow Darcy's advance. "He did not attempt anything untoward, at least not toward our ladies."

"What happened?"

"Georgiana and the Miss Bennets were at the confectionary—Piper escorted them there and went to deal with some business. They saw Wickham enter the shop. Miss Elizabeth led them away and to Piper. She thought he looked unwell, his arm in a sling."

"When?"

"This morning."

"Blood hell!" Darcy fell back in his char. "Bennet knows?"

"Of course."

"And?"

"He is furious, but has not sent a mob out set on lynching Wickham or you."

"I suppose that is a good thing. What do you propose we do?"

"Bennet will be here tomorrow morning with Piper, to discuss the matter. He only left an hour before you arrived."

"How fortunate for me." Darcy tangled his hands in his hair. "How did it come to this? Am I really such a fool?"

"No, you are no fool. A generous and faithful nature does not make a fool."

"Then how?"

"Wickham knew where his fortunes lie and carefully nurtured every interaction with you to maintain his situation. He is a master at his craft. Consider it this way. It took a master to conduct such a manipulation of you."

"You make me feel so much better, thank you."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, where I sit, it sounds like you intend to wallow in your despair and flagellate yourself while the rest of us attempt to do something constructive."

"Thank you for your confidence in me."

"Oh, you have different plans then?"

"I do indeed."

The maid entered and placed a tray on the desk and scurried away.

"There is something to be thankful for. Tell me, what have you in mind. A flight to Gretna Green?"

Darcy gritted his teeth, giving voice to his temper would only lengthen this already too long interview. "I have a special license and a settlement drawn up. Assuming it is to Miss Elizabeth's liking, we will marry as soon as she is willing. We will find Wickham and escort him to a ship bound for—frankly, I do not give a tinker's dam where, just an ocean away from here."

"You do not expect him to go willingly?"

"When the option is that or face the magistrate and his rope, I think he will be persuaded to see it my way."

"And if not?"

"I am certain Piper will be most happy to assist me in bringing the case to the magistrate." Darcy pushed up from the chair and leaned against his desk. Ahh, Mrs. Reynolds did send biscuits. He picked up one with exaggerated care.

"I confess I am impressed."

"Do you mind, or have you more to spoil my appetite with?"

"I am quite satisfied." Fitzwilliam bowed and left.

Darcy watched the door shut and kept staring, certain it would open to permit yet another taunting intrusion. He had little appetite left, but his temper would not be improved with another missed meal so he forced himself to eat.

Who knew a simple carrot soup could be so restorative? Little could rival food prepared in his own kitchen, by hands that knew his tastes. It was good to be home, whatever waited with Bennet tomorrow morning. Tea would be served soon and the boys would regale him with all their adventures. Perhaps he might persuade Georgiana to play for him. If that did not set him to rights, nothing would, given that he could not see Elizabeth until tomorrow.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

The next morning, the Darcy carriage passed the Bennet carriage on the road, the former bearing George and David to Alston to play with the twins, the later bearing Bennet and Piper to Pemberley to discuss Wickham.

Francis and Philip raced back and forth in front of the house under the watchful eye of Miss Wexley.

"I see their coach!" Francis shouted. "Please, can we run to meet it?"

"I think not. You do not need to get in the way of the horses."

"No, I won't! I know better—"

Miss Wexley caught him by the arm. "Enough, Francis, another word and you shall return to your chambers and not join your friends today."

"But Lizzy would let me! She would run with us. You ought to be like her!"

"Well, she is not here right now. She is doing her work with Mrs. Hill. And you might notice, she has not balked at obeying our father's requirements. She and Miss Bennet always go out with Piper to accompany them."

"But they're girls! They have to have a chaperone anyway. It's different."

"Not another word on this matter, Master Bennet." She tightened her grip on his arm just enough to make her point.

"Yes, ma'am." Francis kicked the dirt and sent small pebbles skittering.

A few minutes later, the Darcy coach stopped at the front door and the driver helped Miss Mallory and the boys out. All four boys squealed and talked over one another, clambering over each other like a pile of puppies just let into the sunshine.

David broke away from the pack and approached the governesses. He clasped his hands behind his back in a solemn reflection of his father. "Miss Wexley," he bowed.

She bit her lip but did not quite contain her laugh. Miss Mallory had little better luck.

"Pray, may I ask a favor of you?"

"Of course, Master David." She curtsied.

"May we please go down to the stream? We will be very careful and not get wet—"

"I am sorry, Master David, but the Admiral's orders were that no one was to leave the immediate vicinity of the house."

Francis ran up and tugged her skirts. "But Miss Wexley—"

"No sir, you know better than to disobey orders. You do not want him to take the cat after you."

George and David gasped. Philip grumbled under his breath and glared at Francis.

"No, Miss Wexley." Francis hung his head.

"There, there, you may still find plenty of amusement inside the house. "She patted him on the head.

"Besides," Miss Mallory said, "I heard one of the grooms saying that there had been excessively heavy rains in the north these past few days and there could be floods—"

Miss Wexley's eyebrows rose. "Truly? I had not heard. Perhaps we should alert our people—"

"They're always saying that and it never happens." George stomped his foot. "It would be so exciting to see, but we never do."

Miss Mallory gasped. "Master Darcy! How can you say such a thing? Do you not know how dangerous and destructive such things are?"

"Go into the house now." Miss Wexley turned him toward the house. "After luncheon, we will come outside on the lawn and you can play and take some fresh air."

Francis mumbled under his breath and trudged into the house.

The governesses settled them into the nursery, playing with conkers and marbles. After half an hour, Miss Mallory and Miss Wexley retreated to Miss Wexley's sitting room beside the nursery.

George set aside his conker and sat back on his heels. "Does your father really have a cat'o'nine tails or was Miss Wexley just blustering?"

"Yes, he does." Philip said somberly.

"And it is this big." Francis stretched his arms wide. "And you can still see the blood stains on it!"

David covered his mouth and gasped.

Francis climbed to his feet and flung out his arm. "It makes the most frightful sound when he swings it."

David cut off a scream with his hand over his mouth.

"Does your father use it on you?" George whispered.

"No! He would never do such a thing!" Philip jumped to his feet and pulled Francis's arm down.

Francis whirled on him. "But he said he would—he would have Piper do it, if we disobeyed!"

"He did not!"

"Yes he did!" Francis leaned close to Philip's face.

"No, Papa would not."

David jumped between them. "Can we see it?"

"It is in Papa's study, in his chest. We are not allowed in there without him." Philip crossed his arms firmly over his chest.

"I'm not scared of him!" Francis crossed his arms.

"You should be."

"You are a coward."

"Am not."

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Prove it!" Francis tapped his foot.

"How?"

"We're going to Papa's study. You open his chest."

"I will not! He said never to touch his things."

"See, you are a coward just like I said!"

Philip stomped. "I am not!"

"And Piper hates cowards! So does Papa and so do I. If you don't do it, you are a frightful coward and we shall never speak to you again." Francis turned his back and nodded his head sharply.

"But…but." Philip stammered.

"We won't talk to you ever." George turned his back and stomped his foot.

"Come with us, Philip. We won't hurt anything. Your father won't know." David whispered and pulled Philip's hand.

Francis rushed to the door and peaked out. He beckoned them to follow. Philip sputtered and huffed and followed them out.

They crept down the stairs, pausing at the landing to listen for their governesses. Hushed voices came from the room upstairs, but did not approach. They continued into the study.

Francis pushed the door open just enough to admit them. Philip pulled it shut behind him. The four boys crept to the far corner of the study where the sea chest sat.

Francis gasped and stopped short. "Mr. Wickham?"

Wickham crouched near the desk, one arm bound in a sling near his chest. With his left hand, he fumbled with a key, trying to force it into the keyhole of the strongbox hidden in the wall.

"Why are you using your left hand? You aren't left-handed like me." Francis asked.

"What is the awful smell?" David pinched his nose.

Philip peered at him. "Are you ill, Mr. Wickham? You don't look very good."

Wickham jumped and clutched at the desk. "Good morning Masters Bennet and Maters Darcy."

"What are you doing here? Papa said you're not supposed to be in the house." Philip took a step toward the door. Wickham grabbed his arm.

"Stop!" Philip pulled away. "Piper said we should get him if we ever saw Mr. Wickham around the house."

"Well, Piper and Papa are not here. I am the master of the house while they are gone and I say hear him out." Francis nodded sharply.

"He should not be here! Papa sacked him. Why is he trying to get in the strongbox when he should not even be in the house?"

"How should I know? Ask him. I am certain there is a simple explanation." Francis pointed to Wickham.

"What are you doing here? Why do you have a key when you were dismissed not so very long ago?' Philip crossed his arms and glared.

Wickham slowly pushed to his feet, wavering slightly as he straightened. Sweat dripped down the side of his face. "That is a very good question, Master Philip. You are a very smart boy to be asking."

"So then, why are you here?"

Wickham blotted his face with a dirty handkerchief. He tucked it into his pocket and stroked his chin. "I believe the more pertinent question is, what are you four doing here? I recall that you are not permitted in your father's study without him."

"They wanted to see his cat." Francis pointed at George and David.

George leaned forward, his face screwed into an angry scowl. "It was your idea."

"Was not."

"Was too."

"So, not only are you in his study without permission, but you are planning to go through his chest as well?" Wickham tapped his foot. "I am quite certain that is explicitly forbidden. I am shocked you should have decided on so much disobedience in his absence."

"I told you we should not." Philip looked up at Wickham. "I told them we should not come and that we should not touch father's things."

"Then why did you come here against your convictions? It seems like a very poor decision for an admiral's son."

"He called me a coward."

Wickham frowned. "Truly Master Bennet? Master Darcy?"

Francis retreated a step. "No—"

"Yes you did!"

"Did not!"

"Enough boys, that is quite enough." Wickham slapped the desk, key still in hand. A loud metallic _thunk_ resounded through the room.

The boys jumped. "Yes, sir."

"Now, off with you—all of you!" He shooed them toward the door.

"But you are not supposed to be here either." Philip stopped in the middle of the room. "I heard Papa say—"

"Master Philip—it is not fitting for you to eavesdrop." Wickham shook his head.

Francis and George mimicked his motions.

"But he said—"

"Adults often say things children do not understand—that is why you are not to listen in."

Philip pumped his fists at his side. "But I wasn't—"

"Are you going to tell Papa" Francis asked.

Wickham's lips worked back and forth in a thoughtful frown. "I should you know. You have all been quite naughty. He will be most displeased to know what you have done in his absence"

"But sir! He will be frightfully angry and so will Piper…" Francis scanned the room, his head whipping back and forth.

Philip's chin quivered.

"Yes. I know his temper well. He is a frightful sight when angry." He dropped shakily to one knee. He clutched the edge of the desk and beckoned the boys closer. "But I was once a boy with a father who was difficult to please. I recall the temptations well. So how about this? Since you actually did no harm, I will forget about everything and take all of you to a secret place I know, the most wonderful place for boys to play!"

"Oh let us do!" David bounced on his toes.

Philip rose up on his toes. "But Miss Wexley said—"

"That we were not to go out alone." Francis grumbled. "If Mr. Wickham takes us, we will not be alone."

"I am not sure." Philip scuffed his feet. "I do not think that is what Papa had in mind. Perhaps we should get Miss Wexely."

"I suppose I will have to tell Admiral Bennet—"

"No!" Francis stamped.

"No, no, do not. I should like to see this place. Is it far?" Philip chewed his lower lip.

"Not very, it is on the border between Pemberley and Alston. It is a place where Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam and I played as children. "

"Oh, then Papa knows of it?" David asked.

"He does indeed. I expect that he remembers it quite well for all the hours we spent there in years gone by. I recall it quite fondly. It has been a long time since I have been there. I would like to see it again."

"You see, then, it must be all right." Francis grinned. "Let's go!"

"Come then, let us make an adventure of it." Wickham pushed himself up, leaning heavily on the corner of the desk.

"What if someone sees us? Mrs. Hill will not let us out the front door. She is ever so stern." Francis pouted.

"We can go out this way." Wickham pointed to the servant's door. He shambled toward it.

"We have never been in the servants' corridors." Francis rubbed his hands together. "I have always wondered what is back there."

"No, we—our Papa says we could only disturb the servants at their work and a proper master does not disrespect his servants that way." George glanced at Philip who nodded vigorously.

"Well, I promise, we will interfere with no one. No one shall see us at all." Wickham pushed the door open. It protested in a loud screech.

He stepped into the dark corridor and beckoned them. They followed him into the narrow hall with exaggerated quiet steps. The dim light and shadows in the tight space only heightened the sense of forbidden adventure as they tiptoed toward a small door. Wickham opened it with a key and ushered them into an overgrown corner of the garden.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

Elizabeth pushed up from the narrow desk and nodded at Hill. Jane had left them over an hour ago with a severe headache. Elizabeth could not blame her.

Their meeting had lasted far longer than usual. Papa's insistence on a detailed inventory as well as plans for fall supplies required their concerted efforts and they were still not quite finished. They had even had to call the footmen in to help them wrestle barrels and crates from the dark corners of the pantries and put them all back once their contents had been examined. Though Elizabeth could have done without the activity, the footmen seemed to appreciate the respite from their otherwise dreary assignment of guarding the house against the possible intrusions of one George Wickham.

She pinched her temples and sighed. How that one man could so disrupt their lives! A shudder gripped her shoulders as she stalked down the corridor. The rest of their work would wait, at least until she stretched her legs and look in a little fresh air, from the safety of the balcony of course. She had had enough of Papa's ire and was in no hurry to invite more.

The cool morning air rushed in as she pushed the French doors open. She loved the scents of the morning. Today they were clean, a hint of sweet flowers on the breeze with just a touch of earthiness from the stables.

Mr. Darcy was to return today. Her heart fluttered. Was it really possible he had offered for her? Would he return with a change of heart? Would something in London make him reconsider?

An icy knot tightened in her belly.

Enough! It was time to stop such mindless wanderings. He was not that kind of man. He did not play the games of the _ton_. No their reunion—despite Wickham—would be pleasing. Perhaps even tonight. If he returned early enough, he might come as he often did, to pick up the boys after they played with the twins.

But then again, if he saw Papa at Pemberley, he might be in no temper to come to Alston. Still, she would make certain one of her nicest frocks was ready for this afternoon. She turned back inside and shut the doors behind her.

Halfway down the hall, she stopped mid-step and cocked her head. It as too quiet, far too quiet for having four young boys trapped in the house. That could only mean one thing. She raced upstairs to the nursery. Toys littered the floor, but no children.

She stood in the center of the ample room and scanned the corners and under the furniture. "Phillip! Francis. George, David! Come out this moment. I must see you now!"

No giggles, no shifting of small bodies, no hushed whispers.

"Now boys!"

Still nothing. Rushed steps echoed down the hall, the dainty clunk of ladies' shoes.

"Miss Elizabeth?" Miss Wexley nearly fell through the doorway.

"Where are the boys?"

Miss Mallory skidded to a stop just inside the nursery. "I saw them here not half an hour ago. I told them—"

"Not to leave, yes, yes, I know. But they are not here. We must find them. You go upstairs to the servants' quarters and attics. They might be paying in the hammocks. Miss Mallory, go and find Hill and tell her. Check the kitchens and the pantry, and then go out to the laundry—"

"I told them to stay inside—"

"Clear that meant very little. No go!" She pointed to the doorway with a quivering hand.

They rushed away.

Elizabeth pressed her temples and held her breath. Where did Papa forbid the boys to play? They were not allowed to race down the corridors or slide down the banister. The stairs, the library ladders, his study with his sea chest were all forbidden. Those last two would be especially difficult to hear, particularly if they were trying to be quiet.

She flew downstairs toward the library. Please, let them be hanging off the shelves and the ladders. She threw the door open. Her knees threatened to melt beneath her. Never had she been so disappointed to not find her brothers disobeying.

They must be in Papa's office. They had to be there. They would be in such trouble, though. But they deserved it for scaring her so! She could not feel sorry for them. Perhaps after Papa and Piper were finished with their remonstrations, but not until then.

She paused at the door and caught her breath, heart thundering so hard she could not have possibly heard them within. The latch clicked and the door swung open.

The room was stubbornly, maddeningly, terrifyingly empty. She swallowed a scream and stumbled inside.

A tin soldier and a pair of conkers lay on the floor near the still sealed sea chest. And on the desk—no—it could not be—

She ran to the desk. Yes it was—her key, the final missing key. She turned to the hidden wall safe. The trim around the hidden keyhole was scratched—new scratches. He had been here. She clutched the edge of the desk as the room spun. He had been in the house and now he must have the boys.

Her feet were in motion before she quite knew where she was going. She skided to a halt at the base of the stairs. "Jane! Hill!"

A moment later the governesses, Jane and Hill gathered around her. The footmen appeared behind them a heartbeat later.

She held up the key. "Mr. Wickham has been in the house this morning. I found this in the study and these as well." She held out the toys. "I am certain he must have the boys."

Miss Mallory blanched and Miss Wexley grabbed the bannister. Hill clutched Jane's hands.

"But how could he have overtaken all four of them?" Jane asked.

"I am sure he duped them into going with him willingly. I doubt Mr. Darcy thought to warn them away from Mr. Wickham. I know Papa's warning to the twins was quite mild so as not to tempt them to heroics."

"What are we to do? The Admiral and Piper are both to Pemberley today?" Miss Wexley cried.

Elizabeth pointed to the nearest footman. "Go to Pemberley right now. Inform them what has happened and that we are making a thorough search."

He bowed and dashed away.

"In the meantime," she pointed at the other footman, "set the grooms and all the gardeners to search the stables, the garden, the sheds, the still room and laundry—all of it. Hill, gather the staff and set them to search the servant's halls, attics and pantries."

"But it is unlikely they are in the house." Hill said.

"When we saw him in town it was clear he was injured so he will not be moving quickly. He might very well be trying to hide in some little used room in the house. Jane, you and the governesses search all the guest rooms and the family quarters, even Papa's room and Piper's."

"We will, but Lizzy—I see that look in your eye, what are you planning? Jane caught her forearm.

"It is just a guess, but if Wickham is not with them in any of the other places, I think I may know where he has gone with them."

"Where? He cannot go too far or too fast with the boys in tow and as unwell as he is."

"Do you remember how he told the story of rescuing Mr. Darcy from the rockslide when they were boys? That there was a cave—"

"Where Alston and Pemberley abut?"

"I just feel it in my bones. That is where he has gone."

Jane gasped. "You do not mean to go alone? What do you think you will do?"

"I am not sure. He will have all he can manage with the four boys. I will think of something. If I am not back in three hours you will know I have found them. Send Piper and Papa."

"No, Lizzy I cannot let you—"

"You cannot stop me."

"You are as stubborn as Papa!"

"You have said that before. Jane, I am certain this is the right thing. I know Papa will be angry—" She chuckled darkly. "But nonetheless, I will go."

"God speed then." Jane squeezed her hand and hurried off.

Elizabeth suspected her haste had more to do with her disapproval than with her rush to find her brothers.

Elizabeth grabbed her spencer and bonnet from the front table and ran to the barn. The grooms were nowhere to be found. Luckily, she did not really need them. She made quick work saddling the chestnut mare and led her to the mounting block.

At least there was no one about to scandalize as she mounted stride. Blasted side saddle was entirely unsuitable when haste was called for. Did Papa know Piper had taught her to ride astride? If not, she would happily allow Piper to share in a little of Papa's displeasure.

She urged the horse into motion and soon achieved a rapid clip. What would Mr. Darcy say to her scampering about the country side like some common chit, unaccompanied and astride her own animal? Little did it matter, if she was to affect her brother's return. That was the only thing that mattered now.

The woods closed in, leaving the narrow bridle path barely visible. She would follow it until it crossed the stream that formed the boundary between the two estates. Given her druthers, she would have gone north immediately, but the stream dropped into a ravine that would not easily be crossed and the small path lead to the only easy crossing for several miles.

Once she could make her way north, she could follow the ravine past two hills and up a third. The cave entrance was on the east face of the hillside beside a pile of rocks, cleared away from the land slide? Why they did not leave it blocked and out of temptation—

Mr. Darcy had explained they uncovered it as it was though safer to have it open and easy to enter than to tempt small boys to find a more dangerous way in. Bless it all, he was probably right. But did he have to take such prodigious good care of everyone and everything in his reach?

Small branches slapped aat her face and tore her bonnet back. She shoved stray locks out of her eyes.

If only he had not been so determined to take care of Mr. Wickham, none of this would have happened. If only Papa would have listened to her and not hired him, none of this would be happening. They were both so infuriatingly stubborn!

She grumbled under her breath and wiped sweat from her face with her sleeve. If only they had listened to her.

But Papa insisted he had good reason. After what had happened with Lord Alrick, he said she willfully misunderstood the intentions of every man in the room, condemning every one of them to be rakes and cads if they so much as gave a glance her way. He could hardly trust her dislike any more. She swallowed back the knot in her throat. After their latest row, did he trust her at all anymore?

They had spoken little since that morning, nods and grunts in passing. He gave orders, she followed them. But their camaraderie was lost. Perhaps it was irretrievable now. Her throat knotted.

This would not do. Control, she must control her thoughts. All this would still be there after the boys were returned.

The stream babbled ahead of her. She guided the horse across, its hooves splashing the hem of her skirts as they crossed. She paused a moment—she was on the Pemberley side now. Stray spray from the stream over rocks kissed her cheeks even as Mr. Darcy had before he left.

If anything happened to the boys, any of them, would he still want her? She had been in charge of the house. She had called the footmen from their duty in the halls. If the men had been at their posts, would all this have happened? Could he, or Papa, forgive her?

Though she wanted to blame them, this was all her fault!

A small path wove north, through the trees beside the brook. She turned the horse to follow it. The trees thinned and the ravine opened up to her right, growing deeper as it progressed northwards. Soon, very soon, she would be at the cave. But what would she do then? She had only her small knife. How could she—

"Miss Elizabeth?"

She screamed and nearly lost her seat.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

Mr. Darcy, atop a huge black horse, pulled up beside her. His hair was disheveled, cravat untied and one end flapped over his shoulder. Leaves and broken twigs clung to his coat amidst the fine coating of dust.

"What are you doing here?" They demanded simultaneously.

"Looking for my—"

"…brothers."

"…sons."

They stared at each other a long moment, hardly blinking.

"Where are you going?" Darcy asked.

"I should think it obvious—the cave—I am certain that is where Wickham has taken the boys. Where are—"

"Piper and your father have gone to Wickham's cottage and a few other similar spots. Fitzwilliam went into town to check the inns Wickham frequents. I had gone with Fitzwilliam, but detoured here halfway out."

"Our servants are searching Alston's grounds. I do not think he could get very far."

"Yet you left your sister to supervise them whilst you are out here?"

"She is fully capable. I—"

"Had to follow your—"

"Yes."

"You can return to Alston now. I will—"

"No! Those are my brothers and I will—

"What exactly do you expect to do if you find Wickham?"

Oh maddening man! He had that irritating, all-knowing look that Papa was apt to take on just before he said something very, very stupid.

She drew a deep breath and gritted her teeth. "Keep watch. Jane knows where I have gone and to send Papa if I do not return by evening. If he moves them, I can leave trail markers to follow. If the situation proves too dangerous, I can draw him away from the boys as I have the advantage of a horse and an able body. I may not be able to challenge him as you would, but—"

"You are not without a well-considered plan." Darcy tipped his head.

"I am glad you approve." She urged her horse into motion. This was not time for debate and he may as well learn of her determination now whilst he still had the chance to change his mind.

He followed. "Do not mistake my admiration for approval."

"Well forgive my error." She could not look at him. If his look of disapproval was anything like Papa's, her resolve might weaken.

"Neither your father not Piper will approve."

"You do not think I am aware of that? I have lived with him long enough to know what will and will not be approved. I will deal with what comes _after_ the boys are safe. That is the only thing that matters." Enough conversation! The last thing she needed was another meddlesome, all-knowing man lording his superiority over her. She leaned forward in the saddle. As soon as the terrain permitted, she would pick up the pace.

"Elizabeth!"

She looked over her shoulder. "Have you further orders for me?"

Darcy growled and maneuvered his horse next to hers. A narrow branch slapped his face. "I am not your father! I do not issue commands, you know that. Why are you so angry with me?"

"I am not angry."

"Yes you are."

"Very well then, I am angry, but at Wickham—" She ducked under a low hanging branch.

Darcy swatted it away from his face. "And at me for promoting Wickham to your family."

She said nothing. The path widened and cleared and she pressed her heels into her horse's side. The dear creature wanted to move as much as she did and quickened the pace.

Darcy matched her pace and pulled half a step ahead. He craned his neck to look at her. His brow was drawn low over eyes that flashed with an intensity she had only seen once before, the day he came across her after she had met Wickham in the woods.

She wanted to argue, to deny it, but she could not argue with that look. Her shoulders sagged. "Yes, I am angry over that too."

"Thank you. It is time for you to be honest with me." The path narrowed again and the horses slowed and moved very close together.

She peeked at him.

"I was wrong not to see through his façade sooner. But you do understand, I hope, I promoted him in good faith. I am sorry for my error. Please forgive me."

She met his gaze. Tight lines drew furrows beside his eyes and lips.

"I should have been more attentive to your concerns. I brushed them aside and in doing so dismissed you. I was wrong and it is not a mistake I will make again—if you will give me the opportunity." He winced as he spoke the words.

Her eyes and throat burned. What more could she ask of anyone?

"Will you forgive me?" His voice wavered.

The words caught in her throat and had to be forced out. "I—I will." Part of her wished she could leave it at that, but if he was courageous enough to confess his flaws, could she do less? She swallowed hard. "You are very gracious sir. In all good conscience, though, I must offer that perhaps you were not so unwise to ignore my warnings. I have come to believe that some of my opinions have been rather tainted by my experiences in London—perhaps I am too quick to willfully misunderstand the motives and intentions of others." Would he hate her for not owning her faults sooner?

He exhaled hard and the corners of his lips crept up. "Perhaps we can be of mutual aid to one another as our shortcomings are most complimentary."

"I find that prospect quite appealing."

He smiled and extended his hand. She offered hers. He took it and squeezed it.

"I am still going with you."

He chuckled. "I had no doubt of it. Would you do me a kindness and promise to allow me to handle any necessary confrontation of Wickham."

"And I will manage the boys—agreed." She nodded.

"Thank you." He released her hand. "You father will have my hide for this."

"No, he will know where the blame lies. He and Piper know me well enough to know you could not stop me."

Darcy snorted and he flipped his reins. The horses continued along the overgrown path along the ravine. The hills rose in front of them.

"Is that it?" She pointed to a pile of rocks half way up the third hill.

"Yes, yes that is it." Darcy shaded his yes and squinted into the afternoon sun. "I cannot make it out for certain, I am not sure if there is anyone there."

"I cannot tell either." She chewed her lower lip. "I should have brought Papa's spy glass."

"We must remember that in the future." He rubbed sweat from his forehead. "If he is there, it would not do for him to see us approach. We should approach from the other side."

"I agree."

He guided his horse along the left fork of the path. The way narrowed until only one horse could fit through at a time, and barely that. Their paced slowed further as the incline grew sharper and the horses fought for purchase on the rocky ground.

"As ill as he appeared when we saw him in town, I do not know how Wickham could manage all four boys if they did not go with him willingly," she said.

"I had the same thought. I did not warn the boys strenuously enough to stay away from him. We were so certain it was you ladies who were are risk, we never considered the boys could be a target."

"But he is an opportunist."

"Too true. Direct aggression is far more work than he prefers and runs the risk of dirtying his hands."

"The boys are the kinds of helpless, easy victim a man like him prefers."

Darcy shuddered and urged his horse faster.

"I do not believe Papa saw the possibilities…I am not sure I did either. After my encounter with him in the woods, it seemed very clear that I was his target."

The path opened up before them into a sandy clearing. He stopped his horse, dismounted, and tied the reins to a small tree.

"Let me help you dismount." He stepped toward her.

"No, turn back around."

"What are you taking about?"

"I must dismount—it is an indelicate sight at best. You cannot—"

"You cannot possibly be serious." He slapped his forehead.

"I am entirely serious."

"I have been riding, alone in the forest, with you in a most indelicate seat for well-nigh an hour and you choose now to become missish about it? I cannot believe it." He reached for her waist.

"No, you cannot—"

"My dearest, loveliest, Elizabeth, I have been staring at the exquisite turn of your ankle and calf for all these miles and not once allowed you to realize the loveliness you present me with. You will reward me by allowing me to help you dismount." He took her waist firmly in his hands.

"But my Father—"

"Too late for that. He is already unhappy with me. What more can he do? Make us marry? Since I have already asked for that privilege, I do not see I have anything to fear in that. I have the license I promised I would acquire in my desk at home, so he cannot stop us either." He helped her down and steadied her on her feet.

She shook out her skirts. With a little huff, she looked up at him. He was right, but she did not have to like it.

He cupped her cheek in his palm. "If our errand were any less urgent, I would kiss you now."

She blinked and bit her lip. "We must go."

He took her hand and led her to the edge of the clearing. He peeked around a large oak. The entrance to the cave lay just behind a sunbeam, bathed in grey shadows and dust. Her heart fell, the dirt at the mouth seemed undisturbed. She pressed her fingers to her lips. Silence. They grimaced at each other. Four young boys could hardly manage silence for a moment. Certainly this was too long.

He pointed to himself then to the cave. She nodded. He crept toward the dark entrance. She held her breath. Three more steps and he would be at the telltale pile of rocks. He pressed himself back to the hillside, scowling. He shook his head and advanced further, pausing again at the edge of the opening.

Her heart jumped into her throat. Her fingertips tingled and feet itched to move. Why did he stand so stupidly?

He slipped inside. She did not breathe. Why did he not come out? She needed some sign. Surely they would appear soon. They had to! Please let them appear soon!

Just as her lungs were ready to burst, he reappeared, alone.

No! No! No! This could not be. She burst from the trees and ran to him. He caught her just as she was about to enter the cave.

"They are not here."

"But, you might have missed—"

"I could not have missed them. Four young boys would leave at least footprints. There were none, save those of foxes and rats."

"But they have to be here." Her throat constricted painfully. Now was not the time to cry. She could indulge that later, when the boys were safely back. She had to remain useful now. "Where else might they be?"

Darcy drew her close and breathed heavily. "Perhaps your father or Fitzwilliam have found them, or they might be still on Alston." He rubbed the back of his hand under his chin.

"But if they are not, is there anywhere else?"

He sucked in a deep breath and held it a moment. "There is one place."

"Where?"

"A ramshackle cottage on Alston, not too far from here. Fitzwilliam, Wickham and I built it with the two boys who lived at Alston. We called it our 'hunting lodge'. The path there is easy, he might have been able to get there with the boys."

"Then let us go!"

"Wait, I should be able to see it form the top of the hill. Come."

They dashed up the stony, steep path. Half a dozen steps up, the rocks underneath her foot slipped. He caught her elbow and waist and steadied her.

In the eternity they climbed, a thousand terrible images flashed through her mind, nearly blinding her with burning tears. She gasped for breath, her lungs demanded air, but her throat did not deign to allow it to pass.

He pulled ahead and climbed the last few yards over the rise. She clutched his hands and allowed him to drag her over the edge. She gasped. The hilltop was broad and flat, dropping off steeply in front of her. The ravine gaped below, a hungry maw threatening any who ventured too close.

She panted so hard she could not see. Finally sated, her lungs gave way to her eyes. She shaded her eyes and peered in the direction he pointed.

"I cannot see!" He growled.

Scuffling and gruntings rose from the opposite side of the hill. The voices were too low to be the boys, the footfalls too heavy. Darcy pressed her back with his arm and he rushed toward the interlopers. Papa and Piper appeared over the hill. Piper's eyes immediately locked on hers.

"Damn it all, Miss Lizzy! What—"

"—the bloody hell—" Papa glowered.

"—be ye doing here?"

Piper and Papa ran past Darcy and skidded to a stop beside her.

Darcy rushed up. "The boys were not at the cave."

Piper hurled invectives into the ravine.

"But he has another idea!" Elizabeth said. "Have you your spy glass?"

"Of course." Papa reached for it.

She snatched it from him and pressed it into Darcy's hands. He strode to the edge and peered through the glass. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Bennet and Piper whipped their heads around and peered over their shoulders.

"I think I see someone. The brush is too dense, I cannot tell if the boys are there, but I believe that is Wickham!"

Papa extended his hand for the glass. "What the devil is he—"

"What be that sound?" Piper searched the horizon.

"Thunder?" She looked around, but there were no storm clouds.

Darcy grabbed the spy glass from Papa and turned north. "Flood! A flash flood! Away from the ravine." He dragged Elizabeth back. Papa and Piper followed.

Below a wall of debris barreled through the ravine followed by raging torrents that tore away small trees and dislodged boulders along the crest of the wave. The roiling waters climbed higher and higher until she was certain they would soon be licking at their feet. But they stopped not a foot below the edge of the ravine.

"Bloody hell and damnation!" Piper slammed his fist into his hand.

"Is there any way to the other side?" Bennet demanded.

Darcy peered through the glass again. He nodded and handed it to Papa and pointed.

"Half a mile from here, a bridge Fitzwilliam and I built. He meant to show off the skills he had learned in the army. To my eye, it is well above the flood level."

"We must hurry." Elizabeth turned toward the path.

"Not so fast, Missy." Piper grabbed her arm.

"Take her back to Pemberley and send word to Alston—" Papa glanced at Darcy.

"Send Fitzwilliam to the Alston hunting lodge, I think that is where they have gone."

Darcy and Papa turned to Elizabeth. "Go with Piper."

"But—" she sputtered.

"No!" All three men shouted over the raging flood.

Piper grabbed her elbow. Papa and Darcy hurried past with a backward glance. She might have been able to persuade one of them, but all three, that was not possible.

"Do ya truly think he would let you go with them? Do you now? I always gave ya credit for more smarts than that." He extended his hand to help her down the narrow path.

She took it. The familiar callused fingers gripped hers painfully tightly. But she did not mind, it was a secure, reassuring feeling, a solid reassurance that all might yet be right with the world. Piper was like that, not a fraction of smoothness or polish, but no surer port in a storm. "No, but I am surprised he left you here with me. I should have though he would want your company."

"He'll have it yet. I will see you to the main way, then trust you to get to Pemberley under your own power. Understood, Missy?" He leveled a menacing glare at her.

It was not an expressions to be meddled with. "Yes sir," she peeped.

"I need to find Colonel Fitz and get him to Alston. Get your horse."

She looked for something to mount with.

Piper sighed and bent down to boost her into the saddle. "Ya know your papa will have my hide for teaching you to ride this way."

"Then he will have less ire to direct at me." She settled into the saddle and headed toward Pemberley. "Do you think they will be able to manage together?"

"If not now, not ever, Missy." Piper mounted and followed her down the hill.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

The steep rocky path slowed the horses to barely a walk. Given his preferences, Darcy would have urged his steed into a gallop, and not just for the necessity of reaching the boys soon. As it was, he could feel Bennet's eyes boring into the back of his head. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. He glanced over his shoulder and caught Bennet's fiery gaze. Darcy glared and looked away. What could he possibly say to satisfy an angry admiral?

He hoped Bennet would have cooled and reflected on his irrationality while Darcy had been gone. What a fanciful notion. Commanders rarely reflected until they conceded defeat.

"What the bloody hell was my daughter doing out here?"

Darcy bit his tongue. The appropriate acerbic remark would not be welcome now, no matter how fitting. "She was looking for her brothers—and my sons."

"But how did she come to be with you?"

Darcy rolled his eyes. "I should think it obvious. She and I both had the same thought of where Wickham might have taken the boys."

"Why did you not send her home? How dare you—" Bennet's horse edged closer.

"Have you ever tried to dissuade her when she is determined?" He met Bennet's eye and snorted. "Good Lord above! She is just like you." Darcy held his breath. They would have it out here and now.

Bennet grumbled but it soon turned to something more like a chuckle. "I suppose she is that."

That was unexpected, true, but unexpected.

"I am still surprised you would permit her—"

"She did not ask my permission—she informed me of what she was going to do. I had little choice in the matter, unless I tied her to one of these trees. I hardly think that alternative more to your liking."

Bennet hooted. "It certainly would not have been hers. I dare say you would have tasted of her knife had you tried."

"Doubtless." Would Elizabeth have really done such a thing? No, but her tongue was certainly sharp enough to have made a worthy substitute. "I hardly think it an auspicious way to court a woman - tying her to a tree - but as I have had little experience in the matter, I shall defer to your greater breadth of knowledge. Do you recommend it as a sound way to win a lady's affections?" Darcy dare not meet his eye.

Bennet threw his head back and laughed heartily.

That was some improvement. Perhaps the admiral had engaged in some reflections after all.

"I have never tried that approach. I hardly think Cathy would approve."

"Cathy?" Darcy started and craned to look at Bennet, nearly losing his seat.

Bennet's glare silenced him. "Cathy."

Darcy swallowed hard and rolled his eyes. Something about hypocrisy and audacity bounced about in the back of his mind. He had promised Elizabeth he would make peace somehow, but Bennet was not making it easy. Cathy?

"She is quite a woman you know."

"I am well aware of that. You do realize that is my aunt—mother you are talking about."

"Quite aware. She has not let me forget that fact." Bennet rubbed his shoulder.

Darcy barked out a strangled laugh. Undoubtedly, that shoulder had felt the wrath of 'Cathy's' fan. Perhaps it should not be so satisfying that Lady Catherine would stand up for him, but it was. Perhaps it was best she and Elizabeth did not attempt to share the household. They were great friends and he would very much like to keep it that way.

Are you prepared for me to become your father?"

"Certainly not." Darcy winced. Perhaps that was not the best way to have stated that truth.

The trail leveled out before them and they pressed their horses for more speed. In the distance, flood waters still roared, spitting and shouting along the rocks in the narrow ravine.

"Why?" Bennet shouted over the roar.

"I hardly think you need to ask."

"I am asking."

How could one possibly respond to such a question, at least in a civilized fashion? Darcy leaned in and flipped his reins. His horse increased its pace.

"I expect an answer. Out with it, man!" Bennet urged his horse to catch up.

"Now is not the time."

"I asked you a question and expect you to answer. Waiting until after battle to resolve an issue is a foolish maneuver at best. I will not have unresolved matters with one with whom I may have to entrust my life, or worse, the lives of my sons."

Fitzwilliam had said something similar, several times. One more commonality that left Darcy feeling like an outsider among them. There was wisdom in the sentiment though.

"I said out with it."

As he wished. "My father was a worthy and admirable man."

"And I am not?"

"You are stubborn, resentful and judgmental—traits I do not relish in any connection."

"So you are above rubbing shoulders with a man who has earned his place and connections?"

"I said no such thing. I am above connecting myself with one who allows his selfishness and resentment to be poured out upon others and ruin their chance at happiness."

"So you resent me—"

"For allowing your possessiveness over Elizabeth to justify you blaming me for Wickham's action." He brought his horse up short and glared at Bennet. "I hold it against you that you have placed your daughter in an impossible position to choose between us."

"You demanded that of her?"

"I promised her I would do whatever I could to reconcile with you, but ultimately the choice was yours."

"What did she say to that—who did she choose?"

Darcy snarled and his horse took off at a trot. He did not look, but heard Bennet's horse struggling to catch up.

They raced along an open meadow alongside the ravine until the bridge Darcy and Fitzwilliam had built came into sight. Darcy slowed and Bennet caught up.

The wooden bridge spanned the ravine at a narrow point and stood only feet above the rushing flood waters. It looked sound enough, little changed from the day they had finished it. Fitzwilliam had assured him that his army engineering skills would keep it steady for a good many years. Darcy hoped Fitzwilliam was right.

Bennet and Darcy stopped a short way from the bridge and dismounted. Too narrow for a carriage, they would have to lead the horses across on foot. They hesitated as they drew near the rushing waves.

Darcy handed his reins to Bennet. "It has been a long time since I have crossed here." He approached the bridge, grasped the side rails and stepped on the first boards. The rushing water below cast up spray and a strong breeze. The wooden slats creaked and swayed slightly. Several more steps and he bounced slightly. The structure hardly flexed under his weight.

He retrieved his horse and led it across. He paused only briefly as Bennet started and was off at a trot by the time Bennet made it to the Alston side.

"Where are we headed?" Bennet shouted as he caught up.

"A small grove in the woods—there is a small cabin. We built it as boys with the son of Alston's previous owner."

They charged along the small meadow and into the forest, but had to slow as the trees became denser around them.

"What did she say?" Bennet asked.

"I did not force her to choose."

"Damnit, what did she say?"

"She will be my wife." Darcy glanced at him. He would have relished his victory if not for the devastation that crumpled Bennet's face. "You cannot stop her any more than I could today."

"I know."

"For my sake, frankly I do not care. But for hers, do not hold on to your resent of me and cause an estrangement."

"You do not care what I think of you?"

"I do not give a tinker's dam. But I do value her happiness and so, for her sake, I will try to appease you."

"At the expense of your pride?"

"What value is my pride compared to her happiness?"

The roar of the water behind them and the clop of the horses' hooves seemed loud in the absence of Bennet's voice. The admiral was speechless, how unusual. Was it a good sign or the calm before the proverbial storm?

"You have changed."

"Yes, I believe I have. And I believe your daughter approves. That is all I care about."

A bird called in the distance and was answered by another. A crash of rocks but no thunderous voice.

"You know, she is just like me." Bennet's tone softened. "Stubborn, sometimes resentful."

"I have noticed the resemblance."

"She is not like Cathy's Anne. She is more like Cathy. Can you live with so much fire? I have married two fiery women and will marry a third. I can tell you, it is not always peaceful sailing."

"Yet you have chosen a third of the same constitution."

"It is what I am used to, but you are not. I need a woman with backbone, who can stand up to a blustery old sailor, one who can be my anchor and weather my storms. You are a gentleman farmer. What are storms to you?"

"Life on the land can be just as turbulent, sir. Anne was a good wife to me, but she was no partner. She was content to stand back and allow me to handle the estate as I saw fit. Lady Catherine functioned as mistress even then as Anne's constitution was not up to it. It was not what I desired, but it was my duty. I did not get to choose then, now I do. Elizabeth is what I have always wanted." He glanced at Bennet. "And I will have her. The only question is upon what terms shall it be?"

Bennet frowned.

"I will have an answer. Out with it and do not play games with me."

Bennet smiled wryly. "Catherine was right. I approve—son. I shall not stand in your way."

"I believe Elizabeth would like more than that."

"I expect you are correct. Can you look past a blustery father brooding over his closest child?"

"There are few reasons I could accept for your behavior. That is one of them. Fatherly feelings mitigate a great number of sins."

Bennet dipped his head.

"I am glad you have come to your senses. But do not expect me to call you father—or uncle."

"Bennet will do well enough. It might confuse the boys otherwise." He chuckled.

Darcy snorted and slowed his horse. "There!" He pointed between the trees.

Bennet shaded his eyes and squinted. "I see movement. It is them." He restrained Darcy with an arm across his chest. This was war. If only Piper were at his side. "Do not rush in. See what he is about first." He pulled out his spy glass and peered into the trees.

Darcy grumbled, but obeyed.

Bennet tucked the spy glass away. "I saw the older two boys." He waved them on and they crept closer.

"Where are we going?" That was George's voice.

"Are we almost there?" Francis whined. He tugged at Wickham's free hand. "How much further?"

"Not very much." Wickham gasped for breath, face pale and sweaty.

"I do not see Philip or David." Bennet's ribs pinched his heart. They had to be nearby. Francis was too calm to have witnessed harm to either of the younger boys. Just a dozen yards away now. Bennet jerked his head and they dashed toward Wickham.

"Halt!"

"Stop!"

Wickham's head snapped up and he gasped.

"Papa!"

"What are you doing with the boys?" Darcy surged ahead and gathered the boys to him. He hugged them briefly then pushed them toward Bennet. He stormed on toward Wickham.

Bennet grabbed the boys' arms and held them tight. Wickham would not touch them again.

"Mr. Wickham was taking us on a treasure hunt to a secret hideout." Francis whispered. "It was so boring in the house and Miss Wexley said we would go out—"

"We will talk about this later." Bennet glowered.

Wickham backed away until he hit a tree trunk.

"I repeat, what are you doing with my children? How dare you take them without my permission?" Darcy closed the distance with each step, growing taller and more menacing with each one.

"Take them?" Wickham's voice trembled. "Is that what you think of me? They came with me of their own accord, did you not? Francis, George?"

The boys scuffed their feet in the soft leaves. Francis tried to pull away, but his father held him fast.

"Answer the question." Bennet squeezed their arms hard. "Did he force you to go with him?"

"No, sir." Francis whispered.

George only stammered and shook his head, not looking up.

Wickham waved his good arm widely. "You see—you accuse me falsely! You should know better than to think I would take anything of yours."

Darcy roared and grabbed him by the coat and slammed him into a tree. "Liar! We will deal with that issue later. Where are the other two?"

Bennet pulled the boys back. They did not need to watch—or perhaps they did. They needed to see what a man did to protect his family. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. This was the man whom Lizzy would marry. If anything ever happened to him, Darcy would doubtless take the twins and Piper into his home and raise them alongside his own boys. And he would care for Cathy once again too. Good man though he was, Fitzwilliam had neither the resources nor the determination to do so much. Lizzy, Cathy and Piper were right, there was no better man to care for those Bennet loved if he could not.

"Where are Philip and David?" Darcy shook Wickham so hard his eyes crossed and his head wobbled.

"How should I know?" He pushed vainly at Darcy's chest. "They decided they did not have the spleen for adventure, so made for home."

"Is this true?" Bennet shook Francis's arm.

"Yes sir."

"David got scared that Father would be angry. He wanted to go home," George whispered.

"Philip offered to see him back to Pemberley." Francis peeked at his father who glowered and looked back at Darcy.

"When did they leave you? Before you crossed the ravine or after?" Darcy growled.

"How should I know? I am not their governess." Wickham swallowed hard.

Darcy growled and rammed his fist into Wickham's ribs. "That is my son!"

Wickham coughed and groaned. "I am not his keeper."

Darcy struck him again. "You took responsibility for them when you led them away from their governesses. Now, when did they leave you?"

"I don't know; I truly don't know." Fear tinged Wickham's voice.

Darcy slammed him against the tree, his head bounced against the bark. "Think hard and answer me."

Bennet leaned down into Francis's face. "What do you remember?"

"They left...they went back…ah…after we crossed. It was after, I am sure."

"What does it matter?" Wickham sputtered. "I am sure they are back by now."

Darcy's eyes bulged. "Did you not hear the flood?"

"What flood?"

"The flash flood that just roared through the ravine."

Wickham turned white. He shook his head and backed into the tree.

"That was not thunder?" Francis's jaw gaped.

"Miss Mallory said it could happen." George covered his mouth with his hands.

"No, it was not." Darcy pointed down the path they had come from. "The ravine is nearly full."

"David might have convinced Philip to take him by way of the stream so he could look for stones by the creek bed." George cried loudly.

"Oh, dear God." Darcy dropped Wickham who stumbled and sagged to the ground. "I've got to find them. You're coming with me." He grabbed Wickham by the shirt front.

Wickham's knees folded under him. "I can't."

"You did this! Now you must—"

"I can barely stand." He extended his injured hand. Dirty bandages covered the stomach churning stench . Angry red lines radiated form the bandages and disappeared up his sleeve. "I cannot hold reins—I do not think I could even stay on a horse."

Darcy met his gaze and stared deep into his face, then cast him aside.

Bennet grabbed Francis's chin in one hand and George's in the other. "Both of you, go directly to Alston and tell Hill what has happened. Run as fast as you can. Once you have talked to Hill, go to the nursery and do not move from there until we return."

"Yes, Papa." Francis tried to salute, but his hand shook.

"Yes, sir."

"Go." Bennet swatted both boys and they ran toward Alston.

Bennet and Darcy turned for their horses.

"What of me?"

They turned and stared at Wickham.

"What of you?" Darcy snorted and clenched his fists.

"You cannot leave me. You owe a duty to me, to save my life as I did yours."

"I owe you nothing. That debt was paid long ago and even if it were still valid, the moment you put my sons in danger, all ties with me were severed." Darcy turned his back and strode away.

Wickham continued to shout, but the words were lost to the crunching leaves under foot.

They took to their horses.

"Where?" Bennet asked.

"That path, it leads directly to the ravine." Darcy pointed.

They urged their horses into a trot. The roaring flood waters grew louder and more menacing.

"Look!" Bennet pointed at small fresh prints in the dirt, a larger set and a smaller one. He pulled his horse up short and jumped down.

Darcy knelt beside him, hand on the prints. "Those are David's boots."

They followed the prints to the ravine and tied off the horses. Bennet pulled a coil of rope from his saddle and slung it over his shoulder.

They ran to the edge. The water had receded slightly, but it still raged through the narrow ravine. The footprints trailed off over the edge. They could make out the remnants of a footpath, now washed away by the flood.

Darcy groaned and gasped, staring into the chasm.

"Wait." Bennet's face was bathed in cold prickles. He laid a hand on Darcy's shoulder. "They reached here before the flood. Philip knows the sounds of water. If any of our boys would have the sense to find higher ground quickly, it would be him."

Darcy swallowed hard and nodded. "He is the steadiest of them all."

"Come," Bennet pulled him up. "We are not done searching. I will watch the far side; you take the near." He pulled out his spy glass and walked along the jagged edge. "Phillip! David!" His trained voice boomed out over the water.

Darcy followed half a step behind. "Boys!"

So many times Bennet had had to hide his fear that the mask came naturally now. But no threat to his own life had ever filled him with the dread he felt in this moment. His feet grew heavier with each step, but he could not allow Darcy to see. Hope was too fragile to risk.

The ravine turned slightly, obscuring the view ahead.

"Philip Edward Bennet!"

"Sir?"

Bennet sucked in a sharp breath. Dare he believe what he heard or did he simply want to hear it too much?

Darcy ran around the bend, Bennet on his heels.

"Philip!"

"Here papa!" It was Philip's voice! Bennet's chest released so suddenly dizziness threatened.

"David?" Darcy cried.

Aching silence.

"I have him, sir."

Darcy sank to his knees. He peered into the ravine, Bennet looking over his shoulder. The voices were mercifully close. They had to be on the Alston side of the ravine.

"There!" Darcy pointed briefly and jumped to his feet.

They ran fifty yards further. Below them, the boys huddled on a narrow ledge, wet and muddy. The water was barely two feet below the ledge, but the occasional wave splashed up and threatened to sweep them away.

David huddled close to Philip, weeping so hard he could barely breathe. Philip held the younger boy tightly, trying to console him.

"Are either of you injured?" Bennet called.

"I—I don't think so." Philip's teeth chattered. "But we're so cold, I hardly know."

Bennet shook out his rope and wove several expert knots.

"You will throw it to them?" Darcy asked.

"No, they are not strong enough to hold on. Philip can handle a rope well enough, but I do not trust his skills enough for this." Bennet stripped off his coat and slipped his legs through loops in the rope. "You lower me down to them and I will bring them up myself."

"I should go." Darcy pulled off his coat and tossed his hat aside.

"No. I know you are the younger man, but I have climbed far more rigging than you ever have. I know ropes and water far better than you and I need a sure man on shore to hold the other end of the rope." He grabbed Darcy's wrist.

Their eyes locked and neither spoke. Darcy nodded and reached for the free end of the rope. He pointed to a ragged tree stump. Bennet nodded. Darcy ran the free end of the rope around the stump and back.

Bennet leaned over the edge. "Move as close to the wall as you can—I am coming down for you."

"Like this?" Philip pushed David close to the wall and flattened them against the rocks.

"Yes, stay like that." Bennet turned and nodded at Darcy. Darcy wrapped the rope around his hands and dug in his heels. He nodded sharply.

Bennet backed over the edge of the ravine, slow and steady for agonizing minutes, until his feet touched down on the narrow ledge.

"Bennet?"

"Tie off, I am with them."

Darcy peered over the edge.

Bennet stood between the boys and the edge and stared up at him. David clung to Bennet, and begged not to be left behind.

To his credit, Philip kept a still upper lip, though his eyes betrayed his terror. How could Bennet leave either behind? He could not carry them both at once.

A wave jumped up and slapped them. The boys shrieked, though Bennet absorbed most of the blow. They could not have maintained their perch in the face of such fury. Bennet's practiced hands freed the knots in the rope.

"I'll send them up together."

"Right."

He adjusted the boys to stand close as he fashioned a harness of the rope. "You know my knots never slip." He patted Philip's head.

"Yes, Papa. I will hold David tight so he won't be scared."

"Of course you will." He tugged on the rope. "Take them up."

"I have you boys." Darcy called. He hauled the rope up slowly, their dead weight making the effort more pronounced.

Bennet held his breath until they disappeared over the top. A crushing weight dropped from his chest. They were out of danger.

Darcy peered over the edge. "I am sending the rope down."

Bennet turned his head just in time for another wave to catch him full in the face and sweep him into the raging torrent.


End file.
